


Resurrection and Recall

by AkNari



Category: Vampire Hunter D
Genre: Blood and Gore, Book References, Clumsy girl, Krista has issues, Memory Loss, Movie References, Not everything is by the book, Original Character(s), Out of Character Moments, Profanity, Rape/Non-con Elements, References to anything and everything I love, Typical Vampire Hunter D malarkey, game references, unintentional alliteration
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-03-23
Updated: 2018-05-30
Packaged: 2018-10-09 14:15:40
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 6
Words: 48,908
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10414020
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/AkNari/pseuds/AkNari
Summary: "This was supposed to be a simple job."The Vampire Hunter finds himself taking on more than he bargained for with his latest bounty. Between plots to turn everything on its head and a clueless girl who can't keep her wits about her, he has his work cut out for him.With any luck, he'll be able to keep her alive long enough to help her discover who she is.--Originally posted on Fanfiction





	1. The Simple One

**Author's Note:**

> So, like the summary says, I originally posted this on Fanfiction.net. Never was happy with how I wrote, but I believe this is the last time I am gonna change it. I will admit that I am still in the process of rewriting the chapters I have out, and I am no where near done with the story. But I have more of it hashed out than I did, and since I haven't given up on it since I first started writing in 2004 and 2005, I doubt I'm giving it up anytime soon.
> 
> Unless I die.
> 
> And I also acknowledge that this isn't the largest fandom, but I do hope that anyone who reads this will tell me how I am doing. I am a review whore. They give me the determination to keep writing.
> 
> Also, I will try to give warnings at the beginning of chapters... at least when things get dicey.

_ October 27, 13,012 _

The day was warm and the breeze cool, the hills on the outskirts of the mountains painted in vivid shades of reds, greens, and golds. A clear sky greeted the inhabitants of the area, but despite the oddly pleasant weather, there were no animals to frolic, nor birds to sing.

Despite this magnificently calm day, the hills were unsettlingly quiet and vacant.

This did not concern the dark-cloaked traveler as he crested the southern hill, lightly grasping the reins of his black steed as he navigated about the trees. Sharp eyes meticulously scanned each one before swiftly moving on, slender fingers tugging the scarf about his face loose.

The scent of old blood wafted through the air. At least he was on the right path.

“You should quit sniffing like a dog and just rest for a bit,” a gruff, disembodied voice sniggered. “And no, standing still for all of about half an hour doesn’t count. Besides, I doubt it will take much more to find the girl; that mayor did say she came around nightfall. She’ll probably go, again, tonight.”

The man did not respond with more than a quiet hum.

“Are you just aching for a dirt nap? You keep pushing yourself, that’s where you’ll end up! And we know how fun those are when you can’t dig the hole!”

The words went unheeded as he continued to weave through trees. True to the voice’s comments, the girl would in all likelihood go back to the town. This was not the first he’d heard of her, but it was the first time he’d been hired to find a woman terrorizing a town. The towns in the surrounding area seemed to drive her off before she became a problem.

Word of his arrival had traveled fast, and the Mayor was even quicker to seek him out. Half down, the other half upon completion. So he would find this ‘terror’. It was a rather simple job, no point in wasting time on a short-lived rest.

\---

Sleep clouded eyes stared blankly into the distance, observing the swaying trees while simultaneously seeing nothing at all. Limbs dangled limply from the branch the girl rested upon, bark digging into the flesh of her cheek with each shallow inhale. Despite the discomfort, she couldn’t bring herself to move at the moment. Her body ached from head to toe, and if she hadn’t known any better, she might have thought someone tried to beat her to death with a spoon over a ridiculously long amount of time.

There was a quiet clopping, and she could barely hear it, but it garnered her attention as it steadily drew nearer. So with a low moan, she stretched and eyed the area.

Nothing.

But she pushed herself up and leaned against the main trunk, her slowly mounting anxiety leaving her with the shakes. “That’s all I need right now. More trigger-happy numpties.” She pantomimed shooting a rifle and being shot with a loud ‘Ka-Blam’, catching sight of the traveler and his horse as she struggled to right herself on the branch.

Immediately, she noticed the curved longsword upon his back. “My God, would you look at that thing?! He could serve me up for dinner with that monstrosity! Just stuff me now and call me done!” she gasped quietly. “Maybe if I squawk like a chicken, he’ll pass me by.”

Her voice dropped in pitch as she imitated a man’s voice. “That’s one queer chicken, boy. Looks a little funny but damn it if she ain’t tasty!” And she giggled, entirely too amused from the simple one-sided banter. “Oh, I have problems. Or maybe I have fever.”

A quick pat to her stomach checking for fever and she laughed all the more. “Oh, I do have some, but that’s okay! I’m hot! Tssshhh…” Despite her delirium, all laughter ceased when she realized the man was but a few trees away. She could only hope he’d not heard her babbling as she stood and reached for a nearby branch.

But he had, he’d heard everything. With a reassuring pat on the neck of the horse, the traveler dropped the reins and continued to the tree, dark gaze searching for the girl hiding among the foliage. In truth, he need not search hard. Her childlike grace and unsteady footing betrayed her, sticks and leaves falling through the tree as she struggled to catch herself.

Her panicked breathing and soft curses thrummed in his ears.

The wide-brimmed hat tipped up, and she knew there was no sense in hiding. At least staying in the tree meant there was more distance and obstacles between them. Slowly, a choking aura enveloped her, fear creeping into her small frame as the gravity of her situation settled like a rock in her belly. She climbed further up, boots slipping over the slick bark. “Wh-what do you want?”

The man made no suggestions of answering, face passive as he treaded about the base of the tree, stalking her without ever coming closer. In hopes he would reply, she called down again. Still, no answer came forth. She closed her eyes, struggling to pull herself onto another branch.

A queer noise filled the air; not one of animals or insects. Nay, this noise – so quick and quiet she questioned the origin – sent chills down her spine, something akin to scratching and clacking against bark. In the same instant she opened her eyes, the man appeared before her on a neighboring branch, nary a hair misplaced from the sudden ascent, cloak quivering about his legs. Bits of bark trickling from his right hand.

To say she was surprised was an understatement, and as coal colored eyes caught her gaze, she could feel her world turn in on itself, her soul cleaved open by the piercing gaze and laid bare for him to read.

She realized she was falling only after the first branch splintered beneath her back, breath forced from her lungs.

Like a rag doll, she tumbled down the tree, branches cracking amidst the sturdier limbs, and one could be impressed that she did little more than grunt with each lost breath.

Her body lurched to a brief stop as her leg slipped between a pair of limbs. A stomach-churning snap of a too-stressed bone replaced the sudden silence.

“Bloody f-!” The weakest limb gave before she could finish, and she landed with a dull thud, a guttural groan tearing through her bared teeth as she rolled onto her back. The man stood just a few feet away, though she did not immediately notice, too focused on keeping her quivering breaths steady and not vomiting on herself.

Wouldn’t want to add insult to injury, would we?

“Fudge nuts,” she finally finished with a hiss. “I should’ve never left, disappearances be damned.” She turned a critical eye upon the strange man, truly feeling insignificant as he loomed above her. Red flags flapped wildly at her instincts, urging her to flee, broke leg or no. It was then that it dawned on her; this man could very well be a professional hunter or mercenary sent to kill her.

‘ _He’s not some run-of-the-mill asshat._ ’

If that were the case, why had he made no move to end her life? Was it a scare tactic? Was she not worth his time? Or was it all a farce?

“Well, it’s been fun,” she squeaked, lurching to her feet despite the sickening cracks issuing from her noticeably broken leg, and she clapped her hands together with a small bow. “Very nice meeting you, you scary man, but I’m gonna leave while you’re giving me the chance!” With those parting words, she turned on her heel and ran like the dickens.

The traveler, watching the young woman run as though hell spawn were snapping their teeth at her heels, mounted the steed still waiting by the tree. The disembodied voice from before groaned, almost disgustedly. “You don’t really think this is her, do you? She didn’t try to fight you, just ran. I know she fits the description, but still.” The rough voice sounded almost disappointed. Perhaps it was expecting a show?

A pause filled the air, the man lightly spurring the horse’s flanks. “Hey, you aren’t seriously going after her are you? This whole job is a sham! Besides, it’s nearly dark. What if darkness is her strength?!”

The man ended the rant, voice cold and monotonous in tones. Laced with rust in a way. “We were charged to ‘take care of the woman terrorizing the town or bring her in’. I intend to do so.”

“Then why didn’t you grab her while she was here?!”

Unbeknownst to the scratchy voice, he’d already sized up the girl. Many things could accurately describe the girl; weary, sick, scared, but threatening was not one. A terror? To someone other than herself, unlikely.

It was an almost ridiculous notion.

Ahead of him, the girl was still running, left leg appearing lame but still managing to aid in her trot, if only barely. Trees parted about a town, and she darted around the building before her, tearing down the alley as fast as she could. She left a trail of destruction in her wake, cans and clothing lines alike knocked over as she headed for the main street. Unsurprisingly, not many people loitered in the streets, having heard the commotion and inherently knowing the girl was involved. Those that had not cleared out scattered at the sight of her stumbling into the road.

And she could hear the clopping, again. She knew what she had to do.

Around the corner he rode at a high rate of speed, gravel kicked loose by the horse’s powerful strides, and in that moment, he felt a shift in the girl’s aura. Briefly, he wondered if the brash voice might receive its show, wondered if he’d misjudged the girl as she pivot on her toes and charged, a black club in hand.

The horse reared, upset by the sharp pull on the reins as the man drew the longsword from the sheath upon his back. With a quiet ring, the blade was freed. Ignoring the fearsome sight, she leapt at him, squealing and eyes wide in terror as she swung out her arm. The two weapons clashed, the force enough to dislodge him from the saddle. He landed light on his feet, eyeing the silhouette currently angling down an adjacent alley.

Like the wind he moved, blocking her way down the narrow path. She stumbled back, yelping when his hand found purchase on her tattered shirt and her feet left the ground, her back against a brick wall.

She thrashed wildly in his hold, unable to do more than claw and punch at his arm. “Let go of me, you bloody behemoth!” The honed tip of his blade pressed into the flesh above her fluttering heart, and she fell silent for a short moment, eyeing him through a curtain of crimson hair. “I’m listening.”

“Face my employer, leave this area, or perish,” the man murmured succinctly. “It’s your decision.”

A disgusted scoff left her pale lips. “I run away to escape crap and just fall face first into more crap,” she muttered, not knowing her words reached his ears. “Yeah, I’m gonna have to go with D, none of the above. I’ve got someone I need to find, and I’m _tired_ of people like _you_. Bunch of mindless _freaks_!”

Belatedly she realized she was taking her anger out on a man just doing his job. That he was, if anything, better than the people who’d come before. And whether he was angry or was stressing his ultimatum, the tip of his blade pressed into her chest with a force that landed on threatening.

But instead of getting smart and minding her mouth, she became furious. “I _dare_ you,” she snarled, spitting in his face.

A simple flick of his wrist and the blade slid cleanly through her flesh, a trickle blood staining her well-worn shirt, and she writhed. The fight drained swiftly from her with each shuddering breath, pain gripping her with each stuttered beat of her heart. “F-fine! I’ll leave!”

He dropped her and she crumpled at his feet, clutching at the piercing in her chest. Her life flowed freely with the blade gone and stained her pale, shaking hands. The flutter of a travel-worn coat was her only indication the man was mounting the horse waiting patiently at the end of the passage. “Y’know, I don’t see much difference between this and just killing me. I guess the upside would be the chance to find a doctor, if one would see me. But, he is giving me a chance. Others didn’t,” she breathed.

Few would know the man could hear her mutterings from his distance, but her problems didn’t really concern him.

She staggered to her feet and stumbled from the alleyway, eyes trailing after the black form. With a shuddering breath, she followed, sight dimming with the strain. “Heh, maybe I’ll die from this? May as well just take me now, God!” Black spotted what vision she had. Each movement felt progressively more sluggish and leaden.

‘ _I_ am _dying._ ’ A pitiful whimper fled her lips.

The man upon the horse knew this, her flubbing heartbeat something he was not unused to hearing. But she continued to trail after him and into the forest. It was commendable, really. Still limping about on a broken leg, practically knocking at Death’s door, but determined to follow the man who’d left you in that condition.

Only when there was a gentle tug at his coat did he spare her a glance. Her bloodied hand clutched to the fabric as he continued on, fingers twitching as she struggled to keep up. “I can’t leave the… area if I die beforehand. Although… I guess that works in your favor… either way, huh?” she slurred, voice barely audible.

A gentle tug on the reins and the beast halted, stomping at the ground in an agitated manner. In a slow move, he twisted in the saddle, giving her his attention. She continued to hold fast to his coat, swaying like a drunkard. And she was pale, deathly pale.

Her lips curved with a small smile. “I know that asking… is probably silly, but could you help me out? Or take me to a doctor… that will help me?” The man above was silent and she nodded her head, lurching with the small movement. She need not look at him to know he would not answer. “What a way to be _heartless_.” She forcefully smacked the rump of the horse just as her eyes rolled back and she collapsed, face first, into the ground.

There was a long, hard laugh from the vicinity of the man’s left hand as the man calmed the startled horse, the sound clear amongst the beast’s displeased snorts. The flesh of his palm contorted to form a leering face, and the man seemed wholly unfazed by the countenanced carbuncle taking residence within his flesh. “Finally, a woman not melting with desire! It’s a nice change. But you’re not heartless! It’s there! It’s just buried beneath centuries of dust and stone.”

The traveler did not respond, but the creature hadn’t expected one, simply following his owner’s gaze with beady eyes as a devious smile curved its small, wrinkled lips. “Perhaps, since she is here, you can refuel. She’s already dying. Just put her out of her misery and end your own suffering,” it coaxed, grinning wider at the sharp glare it received. “Who knows? Maybe she’ll taste as sweet as she smells… underneath the other smells.”

There was a long silence as the man dismounted and kneeled beside the girl, a slender hand exposing her pale neck. “I’m amazed she’s still alive,” he murmured.

The queer creature snickered. “No thanks to you. Well, not like it matters much. She won’t live much longer at this rate. At least, probably not through the night.”

He quietly hummed, briefly deliberating. The creature was right. The girl had been sick before, body struggling and running off adrenaline when it could, whether she realized it or not. Perhaps he’d pushed her body too far. But in a rare show of pity, or curiosity, he scooped up the limp girl and mounted the horse.

“Woah!” the creature cried. “I didn’t say take her with us! How did this even become an option?!”

There was no response as they navigated the dark woods.

It sighed obnoxiously loud. “Why?”

Was he even sure?

“Curious,” he stated, settling her in the saddle when she shifted. It was the best answer he could give. And rather uncharacteristic.

Slowly they headed into the cliffs. The air chilled and the wind moaned through the large trees. Or, maybe it was the girl moaning. He averted his gaze, watching as she slowly woke. She flailed weakly, startled by the horse’s loud snort.

“What the?” Lidded grey eyes narrowed at the bloodied hand pressed between her breasts before eyeing the man. “I want down.”

“You wanted help.”

Whether she realized the words did not leave the man’s slim lips was debatable. She squirmed pathetically in his hold, and anger flushed her cheeks when his hold did not lessen. “Well, you didn’t seem to care earlier! Why the change of heart?!”

A loud crunch ruptured the air.

Blood dripped from each nostril, and for a moment, the man looked truly fearsome, if rather unfazed. A steady hand reset his nose and wiped away the crimson fluid.

The girl eyed the fresh blood, her mouth dropped in awe, and a thought occurred to him. “Are you Human?” But she only turned her gaze forward and smiled sweetly, as if saying, “Oh, you; you’re so silly.” Gradually she slumped in his hold, head bobbing with the horse’s gait.

“Gee,” his hand breathed. “She’s a little off kilter. Besides, does she come off as Human?”

They both turned their gazes upon her, and both came to the same conclusion. They weren’t sure. There was nothing truly otherworldly about her, but it was something that couldn’t be placed.

“Hmm, maybe we’ll figure that one out before we leave.”

The remainder of the trek passed in relative silence, few creatures about and wise enough to see when they were no match for the man in black. They followed a small goat trail up a cliff to a shallow cave, one he’d seen some time before that gave an impressive view of the forest below. But he wasn’t there for pretty views.

They ducked into the cave, his eyes narrowed as he scanned for threats before throwing down a makeshift pallet for the girl. His, thankfully new, medical kit and lantern were next to follow, the lantern warming the immediate area. In the light, he could see just how pale she’d become, the blood stained, tattered shirt a stark contrast. But he did not dwell on this, pulling away the shirt and unlatching the worn and dented armor about her upper torso.

The scent of infection filled the air. A large wound, purple and weeping puss, looked untreated and bled weakly from fresh tears. If he were someone else, he might have cringed at the sight of such a horrid wound. But the man bats not one eye as he works on cleansing the grisly thing alongside the chest wound, stitching them closed and wrapping her side with an antibiotic and salve-soaked cloth.

Still, the stench of infection did not leave, and he eyed the lingering injuries. It really was a wonder this girl was still alive. If anything, he was amazed she’d not gone septic with some of the open wounds.

Sometime later, fragments of arrows and the occasional bullet rest beside him, cradled within soiled rags. The only thing left was her leg. But that would have to wait. It wouldn’t do for her to vomit and aspirate in her sleep.

Really, everything about her seemed Human, almost painfully normal. Her aura was tame, her speed impressive if you consider her broken leg, but…

The man’s curiosity grew.

Why not peer into her memories for her story?

A lurid light coursed through his eyes as he pressed his left hand to her feverish forehead. Images flashed before his eyes, the most recent flickering by first.

The girl was running, leaping from rooftop to rooftop away from people bearing guns, a ball of plasma hitting her shoulder. She lurched forward, slapping into the tiled roof with a grunt as broken shingles fell to the street below. Trembling hands slipped and bled on broken tiles as she scrambled up.

She was sitting in a bare classroom, listening to a kindly teacher with rapt attention as she cautioned the few students left about kidnappings. Her eyes turned about the room. Ten labeled desks lie empty. Looking over the five remaining people in the room, she nodded silently to herself. Three days, she would wait no more than three days before leaving.

She was outside, walking past a group of older teens, when they began stoning her. Garbled insults streamed from their mouths. She wept, not understanding why she was a freak when she barely remembered her own name.

Many memories flitted across his vision. And with each one he studied, he knew for certain this girl was no monster. But he pressed on through her memories, delving into what should have been her childhood. There was nothing.

At least, not at first.

A gore-filled home, not wholly uncommon in this world, filled with the laughter of a madman and the cries of a child. And a woman’s voice, soft and sweet, calmly explaining something that couldn’t quite be understood.

The visions faded, and with a quiet grunt, the man snapped back. Pain gripped him, much like an oncoming migraine. His left arm seized, twitching almost uncontrollably.

As fast as it happened, it all ended.

A quiet huff left tiny lips as the hand muttered to himself and contemplated the reasons for such a forceful denial. “There is a memory blocker in place. I don’t think she is strong enough to place one herself, so I have to imagine someone forcibly placed it there. And we didn’t get what you wanted.”

Beady black eyes scrutinized the girl. “I’m just gonna say this now; I don’t like this. Something is definitely off about her, especially her past. So, just leave her now before you get in too deep.”

The creature had a point.

“Come on, get up! Let’s ditch her.”

It was unclear if the man even knew what kept him rooted to his spot as she moaned and thrashed.

“Wow, I feel like I’ve been bludgeoned within an inch of my life,” she gasped, rolling onto her belly to push herself up. It was only then that she opened her eyes, heart leaping into her throat when she did not recognize the surroundings. And she stilled. She need not look to feel the presence of the intimidating man behind her, but she did, head dipping down to peer between her legs.

A quiet command had her freezing in place before she’d had a chance to bolt, shivering as he gestured for her to come closer. “Why?”

“Your leg,” he responded succinctly.

She would be lying if she said she wasn’t confused. “But… before? I… you hurt me. Why fix me? I mean, I know I asked if you could help me get help, but this…” With a grunt she sat on her bottom, eyeing her dressed wounds suspiciously. Realization dawned on her heart-shaped face. “Wait. Where is my armor and shirt?!”

Despite the brassiere covering her breasts, she covered her chest and skittered away from him. “I’m serious, you freaky man! Where is my bloody stuff?!” Part of her knew that to dress her wounds the items needed to be removed, but she was more concerned with keeping her no-no squares well dressed.

The clatter of armor drew her attention just as her ratty shirt smacked her face. In that moment, she was grateful he tossed the items to her instead of bringing them to her. And despite the pain and discomfort that came with twisting about to latch the armor in place, she felt more at ease with it on.

“Thank you,” she sighed, almost embarrassed at her outburst. “Sorry, no-no squares and all…”

The man’s gaze had not left her yet as she fidgeted with her shirt, and he beckoned her close, again. “Pull off your boot and roll up your breeches, if you can.” She did not question him, sitting meekly with her bare leg in his lap. He ran his hands lightly down her shin and calf, feeling for any more breaks than the obvious one and checking her pulse.

“You never did answer.”

She jerked, staring confused. “Answer what? You haven’t asked me anything.”

“On the way here, I asked if you were Human.”

“Only after you punched him.”

Her eyes became vacant as she searched an empty mind, not entirely hearing the other voice. “I passed out, didn’t I? I was probably talking in my sleep. I do that. Besides,” she murmured as she turned her gaze to the man beneath the broad-brimmed hat. “What kinda question is that? If I’m not Human, am I a kitty? Meow!”

She playfully clawed at the air with one hand and hissed. “I mean, what else could I be? A dog?” she snarked. “What a strange question to ask someone.”

The man did not pay mind to her remarks, fingers pressing a bit firmer upon the swollen flesh of her leg. “Where are you from?” he enquired.

“The orphanage in Puregon,” she breathed. “Um…that’s north-ish, I think.”

“Why roam the local towns only at night?”

“Why ask so many personal questions?” His eyes briefly flickered to her face before focusing on her leg. “Right, I’m lucky I’m not dying right now. Well… I felt safer surrounded by people. Maybe it was just paranoia, but this is one of the few times I can remember not feeling watched. Wouldn’t know about before. Maybe it’s a good thing I don’t remember why I’m an orphan.” A wry smile twisted her lips, and for a moment, she felt at ease with the stranger’s presence.

“Hold still,” he commanded in a soft tone. After a moment of brief confusion, she leaned back and braced herself. One break would be simple enough to set, but both the fibula and tibia were snapped and twisted. In one fluid movement, he stretched out her leg and twisted it.

The girl gasped and gagged, one hand pressed to her lips, bile leaking between her fingers as she writhed. And she cursed with tears streaming down her cheeks; she cursed life, she cursed the man, she cursed anything her mind could grasp. She was almost sure she kicked him at some point, but hurt too much to care as he continued setting the bones.

“Please tell me you are almost done!”

“You shouldn’t have run on a broken leg.”

“Well, I didn’t feel like I had much of a choice!” she cried indignantly, almost sobbing with relief when he began fashioning a makeshift splint. “But, thank you. I know you didn’t have to do any of this. So, I have to ask. Why do any of this?”

He did not answer. Instead, he asked a question in turn. “You said you were looking for someone; who?”

“Just a mercenary of sorts,” she murmured. “Or, maybe you can help me.” Her face lit up at the idea, and she smiled widely. “You were hired to find me and… get rid of me, right? So, you must have the knowhow to do what I need. If you are willing…”

Finished with wrapping her leg, he shifted, if only barely, to prop his elbow upon his knee as she scooted back. He said nothing, merely studying her as she examined her leg and fingered the fabric.

“Maybe, just maybe, you’re the one I was looking for. Someone who can stop nightly disappearances.” Her eyes lit up with joy, and for a moment, the man could see a splash of green in the grey irises. “I can pay you! This works out perfectly if you say yes! Oh! The name’s Krista!” She held out a small hand that the traveler merely ignored, sheepishly drawing it back.

“I’m almost 18 if it’s an age thing; will be in a couple of weeks? When’s the 31st?” She shrugged. “Ah, not like it matters. So, will you? Will you come back with me?”

“Perhaps,” he replied.

She was overjoyed with his uncommitted answer; it was better than a flat out no. Until he spoke again.

“You will come with me to the town of my employer. From there I will decide.”

The most uncomfortable grimace twisted her lips before she sighed. She knew if she wanted his help, she would need to do this, especially after everything else. “Alright. I will.”

The lantern flickered off, and she tried to catch the man’s gaze as he stood. She knew not what she expected to learn from staring into his eyes, but she could almost see the age and horrors he’d seen hidden by an emotionless mask. And something about him seemed wholly otherworldly.

“Go to sleep.” He sat with his back to the cave wall, one leg drawn in to rest his arm upon and sword cradled there. For a moment, he had to wonder what he was heading into with the snarky girl. And he watched her wiggle about on the pallet as he caressed the horse’s muzzle.

“Don’t you wanna sleep here?” At his soft no, Krista leaned up on one arm and pulled at the black ends of her waist-length hair. “Wait, what’s your name?”

“D.”

_ October 28, 13,012 _

The sun was yet to rise when Krista snapped out of sleep, her leg throbbing but better in that it wasn’t twisted queerly. With a wide yawn, she struggled to stand from the pallet before she eventually opted to quietly crawl from her spot. She flopped onto her belly once at the mouth of the cave, leg propped up by the opposite one as she scowled at the moon. “When I left the orphanage, this is not what imagined would happen. And I figured my leg would feel better, not worse.”

The hairs on the nape of her neck rose, and she twisted her head around to gaze upon the intimidating man standing by her side. ‘ _I didn’t even hear him come up._ ’ Something in her mind told her this was no normal man. From the heavy aura hanging about him to the… wait, what did he just say?

“Say what?”

“Let me check your leg.”

Her brows furrowed. “Why? You just barely fixed it. It’s not like there is gonna be much difference this morning.” She had to admit, the throbbing had all but dissipated since she’d first woken, but that didn’t mean much to her. At his pointed stare, however, she rolled over and lifted it for his inspection.

D’s chilled fingers pressed against the pulse points in her thigh over her breeches before he unwrapped her leg. Lightly, he ran a fingertip down the length to her foot, and she giggled and twitched before he roughly pinched the skin. She yelped, glaring at him, but she couldn’t pull her leg from his grasp. “Mind telling me what that was for?”

“I’m ensuring you won’t lose your leg from a pinched artery and that no nerves are pinched.”

“That… that makes sense,” she muttered. “Look, I’m sorry for my attitude. I’m not normally so… so…” She trailed off, unable to find the words to describe her mood. “I’m sorry for being so nasty. For spitting in your face when you were just doing your job.”

“You _should_ be sorry, you little-!”

That did not sound like this man’s voice.

She stared up at him, watching his left hand clench, skin turning white across his knuckles. She had to wonder if he was agitated with her, but, something about him made her think he was not the kind to easily agitate. In fact, most of his interaction with her thus far had been rather stoic. Not a single emotion really showed.

However, she did not bring up the voice. Instead, she stretched around him to grab her boot and eased her swollen foot into it. The slight pressure was comforting. “This probably isn’t my brightest idea, but…” With her breeches pulled into place, she struggled in vain to rewrap her leg. “Yup, not happening.”

The Hunter did not let her struggle much longer, quickly wrapping it with ease. This girl, she seemed rather ‘simple’, save her spitfire attitude. Only time would really tell. Without a word, he moved to his cybernetic horse, pulling out a pink apple for the large beast. Happily, the horse ate.

He felt a shift in the air behind him, casting a sidelong glance at Krista as she snuck towards him, though he doubted she could see his eyes trained on her. No longer a dull grey, her effervescent green eyes shined in the dim light with mischief. A lone finger extended, she crept until she was close enough to poke him inexplicably hard.


	2. Things Unsaid

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you to those who read.
> 
> And leave kudos and bookmark this thing.
> 
> I really hope y'all will enjoy this, but... ah well.

_ October 28, 13,012 _

It had been two, nay, nearly three hours since she poked him, and Krista had yet to still her quaking. She was ninety percent sure she’d drastically lowered, if not completely extinguished, her chances of him coming with her. In fact, she was sorely tempted to run screaming for the hills.

What had happened?

In quick succession to poking him, she received a glare. Oh, a glare. Is that all? From any other person, it would have been just that: a look. Coming from this man, D? No, it was a look so black it made her heart stop. The spike in his already-intimidating aura left her reeling.

She knew, based off this reaction, that if she were to ever come at him with the intent to kill, he would cut her down without hesitation. Perhaps it should have been obvious.

The woodland proved more comforting than the rocky walls of the shallow cave, the surrounding sights providing a welcome distraction. The cool wind and dewy smell filled her with energy, the smallest of smiles lifting her lips. Until she looked upon the man riding at her side. The bright energy and colors seemed to fade around him, like a little monochrome pit of despair that clung to his shoulders.

Her bounce returned to a limp, leaving with it the thought of an easy slaughter.

Yellow flowers, a beacon of joy in the world of plants, caught her eye. With excitement one might find befitting a toddler when presented with a new toy, Krista did no less than sprint to the patch with her hands flung high into the air. In the time it took D to catch up, she managed to fill her arms with the daisies. “Where can you go wrong with flowers?”

Noticeably happier, she awkwardly skipped along, not knowing which city employed him, but not concerned with it for the moment. The little cloud of despair around D seemed to shrink, and no longer did she feel so worried about him. Almost as though the flowers knew in their own way that this girl needed calming, pulling the negative energy from her.

However, after a bit, various assortments of insects began buzzing her and the flowers. She gladly let them collect pollen and rest. Really, she was _more_ than happy to allow this, until a large bumblebee buzzed mere inches from her face. “No, Mister Buzz-buzz. You need to go for the flowers just like everyone else.” She wiggled a flower at arm’s length, praying the large bug would move along.

It did not care for her choice of flower, inspecting the small thing before viciously planting its rear on her arm. With a screech, she slapped the bee into the ground and skittered closer to her companions. “What is wrong with my flowers? Picky bee; this is good stuff!”

A handful of minutes passed before she heard it. The buzzing of a too close bumblebee. She waved a hand by her ear, but the sound only grew louder. With a quick look over her shoulder, she spied the source. A horde of bumblebees gathered in a cloud were giving chase. “That little turd!” she screamed, running about as best she could, her precious flowers in hand.

“Drop the flowers!”

How she managed to hear the hoarse voice over her own screaming was a mystery, but she readily obeyed, tossing the flowers to the wind. She only stopped running when she no longer felt the vibration of their beating wings.

The flowers scattering must have distracted the enormous bees, their fat bodies swarming the fallen plants to scrutinize every petal before flitting away the way they came.

One lone bumblebee dropped from the air with a soft thud.

“That’s what he gets for stinging me.” She smiled almost uncertainly at D as she limped her way to him. She knew she would likely get no answer, but having calmed from earlier, she wanted to attempt some form of conversation with the man she was following. “Thanks? And, I gotta ask… again. Why are you helping me? No, why _did_ you help me?”

He did not answer, but she continued.

“Because, I can’t help but wonder. If you do come with me, will you wait until I am asleep to take advantage of me? Like, steal all my money and run off before I can wake?” She did not notice his quirked eyebrow at the odd question, because there were worse things than money being stolen that could happen when someone is asleep and being taken advantage of.

“Or, perhaps you will find me too much of a burden, kill me, and then take off with everything I have? Don’t get me wrong. I am ecstatic at the fact that you are even considering coming with me. But, with all the characters I have met over the past 11 years, especially since I left the orphanage, I can’t help but wonder if you are just the same as everyone else.”

Krista was right to assume he would not reply.

Really, what was it to him in the end? But then, why help her to begin with?

The ground began sloping down, and both could spy the town not far away, surrounded by the forest on all sides. It was no capital, but it was a fairly well-off town surrounded by a wall. Not many went without in this town, and those that did… well, they didn’t really matter. Not in this town.

D guided the steed with ease around the shrubs and trees and over rocks. Krista had no such luck. “Kid’s not too graceful, is she?” the creature in his hand remarked. They watched as she tumbled down the hill, not bothering to help her stop, merely observing.

It had a point, though. She was very ungraceful, and seemed none too bright.

They came to rest upon the impressive horse by her unmoving body, and D gazed steadily at her back. She did not move, not even a twitch, as the horse impatiently stomped at her. There she stayed for several moments until D stretched down and lifted her by the back of her shirt. She hung there like a kitten, tears streaming down her cheeks.

It was an almost comical sight.

“It hurts to move,” Krista hissed through clenched teeth. Even suspended in the air, she felt pain. She was almost sure she made her leg worse.

Her world spun briefly as he tossed her over his shoulder and into the saddle. At his quiet command to hold on, she numbly wrapped her arms about his waist. She sat stiffly, unsure of how to keep her balance or how to hold fast to D as he weaved the horse through the trees.

In just a few short minutes, the town gates rose before them. The guards recognized the Hunter’s silhouette, waving him in despite the presence of the wanted girl. The trot through town left her red in the face with shame, able to feel the penetrating glares the people cast her as they passed. She could remember this town, now.

A clean and well-tended estate came into view. It was almost painfully white despite the trimmed bushes surrounding it. And it was separate from the rest of the housing.

Without a word, D slipped from the girl’s hold and gestured for her to sit still. The man of the house eagerly met him at the door, smile wide until he caught sight of Krista sitting atop the horse. It did not take a genius to know he was a man used to getting his way.

“You brought it here? I told you to deal with it!” He ran a hand through his salt and pepper hair, growling.

“You hired me to do either or,” he murmured, head tipped down but eyes still narrowed upon the man. “She will not be bothering the town after this.”

The man grew increasingly more agitated. “And by ‘bring it in’, I was hoping you would understand that it needed to be deceased.”

“She doesn’t seem to be much of a terror, as you called her,” the countenanced carbuncle grumbled, though it seemed the man could not tell it was not the Hunter. “There wasn’t much of a reason to follow through with taking her life.”

His face turned red with anger and embarrassment. He really should have been more specific with his reasoning, but it was too late. “I’m not paying you the other half. Half pay for a half-breed and a half-assed job seems more than fair.”

“You really wanna do this?” the hand quipped.

“Why have her hunted to begin with?”

Face turning a darker shade, the man sputtered. “She is a menace to society, terrorizing the people of the city. She needs to be dealt with!”

“And she has been.” The Hunter held out his hand, and after several moments fuming, the man tossed the agreed amount to him.

“Now get out of my town,” he hissed at the Hunter’s back.

“Only after we resupply.”

\---

Krista waited with her head turned down, unable to hear the conversation or see the employer, but she flinched when the door slammed shut. “That sounds like it didn’t end the best. I hope he still got paid.”

“I did.”

“Oh, good.” She smiled weakly at him, wholly uncomfortable with the entire situation. It didn’t take much to figure out she was as welcome as bedbugs in this town. “Now that you’re done with them, will you come with me to Puregon?”

“Supplies, first.”

A loud squeal left her, and for a moment he would swear he could see stars in her eyes. No, perhaps those were tears.

"Thank you!” With trembling fingers, she began digging for her coin purse. “I will give you everything I have in this pouch. I know it’s probably a lot less than what you just got paid, but…” She faltered, eyeing the hand stilling hers.

“Keep it for now,” he answered before she could ask. “Buy the things you need.”

She was honestly amazed. “Really?” At his slight nod she smiled widely. “Sincerely, thank you. I will still pay you, though. I don’t know when, but I will.”

Back at the center of town, D carefully secured the horse at the trough. Krista slipped from the saddle with an undignified grunt, squeaking and shuddering with nervous energy. She was still overjoyed he was to accompany her, but another part of her was terrified. ‘ _Will they try to attack me while I’m alone?_ ’

‘ ** _Don’t be such a baby. Just get it all over with,_** ’ a voice not unlike her own but undeniably foreign answered.

Her eyes went wide. “I know I’m in the habit of talking to myself, but I don’t remember having a voice ever answer back…”

‘ ** _Well, I’m answering now. So, if you could just move this along, that’d be great._** ’

“Fine,” she muttered, inching her way closer to the man in black. “Hey, D?”

He cast her a sidelong glance, watching her fidget.

“I’m gonna go down to the smithy, see if he can’t fix my chest plates. If you hear screaming, maybe make sure I ain’t dead in the ditch? I’d appreciate it!” She smiled toothily at him, patting the air around his shoulder apprehensively. Wouldn’t want to irk him by invading his personal space, again. “So, ah… I’ll be back in a bit to get food for myself. It won’t be much for them to gather. I’ve kinda stopped eating since I left Puregon.”

Without another word, Krista skittered down the street, eyes searching for the blacksmith’s shop. She knew she’d seen one during her mad run through town, and she could only hope that the person was in as good a mood as the rest of the people in this town.

‘ ** _Except for that guy. He was in a really pissy mood._** ’

“Yeah, seemed like it,” she agreed distractedly. She finally caught sight of the open-faced building, gaping in awe at all of the clutter. Walls were lined with armor of all types and every weapon imaginable. Maces, daggers, swords, lances, firearms. It was incredible, but with all the clutter, it was no surprise that she found herself lost amongst the equipment and scraps.

She jumped as high as she could, spying the thin man laboring over a rapier, before she fell over the nearest pile of scrap. Without looking up, the man yelled, “There is a clear path along the left wall.”

Too true this was. With flushed cheeks, Krista made her way to him. “Sorry, I need to know if you can fix my chest plates.”

The grinding stone whirred to a stop and he held out a hand. “Let me see ‘em.”

An already pink face darkened as she worked to unlatch the pieces under her shirt. He eyed them once she was done, comparing the shape of the plate to her fairly flat chest and finding the plate just a tad _too_ flat. “Give me a few hours and I’ll have those looking good as new, maybe fitting properly, too.”

“Just a few hours?” she asked incredulously.

The smith laughed lightly. “Promise.”

“How much?”

“I’m gonna estimate it in the five hundred range. Got at least that much?”

She did not have to check to know she had well over that amount, nodding her head vigorously. “Thank you, I shall return!” she called. Like a startled mouse, she fled the shop and slammed face-first into a broad chest. And she screamed in fright, arms shielding her face.

“This is how I die!”

But no death came.

‘ ** _Look up, you idiot._** ’

She did, smiling sheepishly at the Hunter eyeing her. “Sorry, I thought… I don’t know what I thought. I guess I thought you were an angry town liver… An angry people… Argh, you get my point!” A rough shudder went through her. “Either way, it’s gonna be a few hours and I gotta go to one more place before I get food.”

With a near silent squeak and a small hop, she took off down the street, oblivious to the scrutinizing gaze the man gave her. A clothing store meant for travelers caught her eye and she threw herself through the door. Her breeches were fine, however… She cast a scornful look at her shirt.

The stained shirt was a pathetic sight, in tatters and worn thin. Not to mention how filthy it was. And losing her cloak proved to her just how horrid the elements could be when without protection. A bit of scanning and she found all she felt she would need. A single shirt and traveling cloak. And a couple of spare pairs of undies.

That really wasn’t much, but she was confident in her ability to keep semi-clean. And besides, why buy too horribly much when she had nowhere to truly store it?

D stepped from the shadow of the building as she passed and scanned the street for him. But upon his ‘sudden appearance’, she screeched and flung her new clothes at him. Without a word, he plucked the painfully plain underwear off the edge of his wide brimmed hat.

This girl, she startled far too easily. But, if he were her, perhaps he would be the same.

To the grocer she fled with cheeks flushed, quickly swapping out shirts and pulling on her new cloak. The old shirt found a home in the waste bin outside the store, underwear tucked inside the cloak.

He found she was not lying when she said she’d not been eating much. She picked out a couple of sour apples and a tin of crackers, knowing the ride home would take a couple of days. Beyond that, a few hygiene items and she was done.

“Do you mind if I put this in one of your bags?” At his soft no, she deposited her items and followed him to the local tavern.

Silence reigned over the room, activities ceased, as they entered the building, patrons eyeing the duo apprehensively through the swirling clouds of acrid smoke. Even after the pair occupied a small corner table where light was little, no one dared to speak until a petite waiter came to them.

“My name’s Marlo,” he started, leaning in close to the table to better hear. “What can I get you two?”

The Hunter ordered a red wine by a name she would never remember, and with her mouth agape, she meekly requested water. “Forgive me if I’m wrong, but you don’t seem the drinking type.”

“Typically,” the creature in his hand answered, though she knew no different.

The glasses hit the table with a soft clink. “If you need anything else, just yell,” the man said, spinning on his heel to leave as a group of men at a nearby table laughed.

“Marlo, please. With how strong their drinks are, I’m sure they won’t make it to a second round!” a man with unruly black hair quipped. He was on the verge of drunk, along with the rest of the men guffawing around him.

Marlo ran a hand through his red curls before slapping the man on the back of his head. “Don’t pester others with your drunken teasing this early in the day, Ned.” The man, Ned, could only laugh boisterously as Marlo left, but did not comment anymore.

Krista smiled at the exchange, chugging over half her glass before D could take more than a sip of his own. Without a word, she leaned across the table and sniffed his wine. Her nose wrinkled. “Never tried wine. I like the idea of it, it’s pretty, but I can’t get past the smell.”

A soft roll of the shoulders, she shrugged and finished her glass. “Well, I don’t know if you know, but I came through the mountain pass to get here. The one they carved.” He nodded softly at the information. “So, after we go through there, we go back to the north. I think… maybe it is more northeast?”

A hearty and genuine laugh left her suddenly wide smile. “You’d think in my mad run I would have at least remembered the towns I passed through.”

He was silent for a moment, taking another slow sip of the wine. “There is a town just the other side of the pass. We’ll reach there by nightfall.”

“You sure?” At his nod, she murmured, “I guess that makes sense if I go with you on the horse. Walking takes a lot longer than riding.”

They sat in silence, waiting on the girl’s armor while he continued to sip on the red wine.

Well, perhaps in silence was not quite accurate.

“My eyes burn!” she cried, rubbing each one with the back of her thumbs.

She’d tried, once more, to see into the man’s eyes, quickly finding herself in a stare down.

And another.

And another.

And another.

And she’d lost each one. Really, she wasn’t even sure if he had blinked in between each match. “How can you go that long without blinking? I could win if I just jabbed you in the eye, but you’d probably murder me!” She hunched over, palms to each eye, and lightly stomped at the floor with her feet.

D drained the last bit in his glass before standing. The few hours had passed. There was no sense in waiting any longer. He had to wonder if he was truly destined to travel with this girl. But, just how bad could it be?

Life has a strange way of answering sometimes.

He placed the owed amount on the counter, turning long enough to observe as Krista stumbled over the leg of her own chair and mowed down Marlo. Even as he left the bar, a series of crashes reached his ears well down the street. Horse in tow, he waited outside the blacksmith’s shop.

A few minutes later she came running down the street, eyes wild, face flushed, and forehead bruised just above her brows. She smiled widely. “Howdy! I’ll be just a moment assuming I don’t kill myself on something in here. And assuming that man back there doesn’t decide to gather a mob to kill me. God knows the counter already tried.”

By the time she came back out, the bruise had darkened considerably. She struggled with the clasps on her armor, pleasantly surprised by how well and comfortably it fit now. “Wow, that’s nice. Bunches better! So, we done here?”

D merely headed down the road, listening to the girl stumble along and fight with her cloak.

“ _Very_ lacking in grace, and an idiot,” the carbuncle grumbled quietly. “Really, why don’t you just ditch her? She’ll figure out how to solve her own problems… at some point. Besides, you’re not getting paid. What’s the point?” There was a small pause. “You think she’d freak out if she knew just how _old_ you _are_?”

"You talking to me?” Krista suddenly asked, hands clasped lightly behind her back. “Or are you talking to yourself? Do you do it often?”

“Do you?”

“I think? Is there a problem with it?”

They were near the town gates, and she watched as he mounted the steed with a flourish of his coat.

‘ ** _I don’t think he really cares._** ’

“I don’t guess so,” she muttered. She glanced up at him, eyeing his extended hand. “You want me to ride?”

‘ ** _Nah, he seems like quite the romantic._** ’

Krista was mid-eye roll when he affirmed her suspicions. “You gonna save me when I fall off head first? Because previous experiences with horseback riding say that’s gonna happen.” He did not respond. “I’ll take that as a maybe.”

Hair at the nape of her neck stood on end as she slipped her hand into his and he effortlessly pulled her into the saddle. His hand was only as chilled as before, but something sent a torrent of chills across her body. And for just a moment it unnerved her.

\---

The man did not lie.

Upon the horse they did exit the passage, town appearing ablaze as the sun settled behind the mountains. It was a small settlement, filled mainly with miners and lumberjacks.

At the town stables, D dismounted and patiently waited as Krista slid off the mount, landing heavily on her stomach. He did not wait on her to stand. Well-practiced hands unlatched the saddle and bags and he hoisted them onto his shoulder.

With the horse in the care of the paid stable hand, D headed for the tavern, Krista trailing behind him. She could honestly say that her rump was sore. Her thighs were sore. Everything was sore once the numbness wore off. She rubbed her bottom. Even her side and leg seemed agitated by the journey.

“I will take care of our room.”

She choked on her spit before glowering at the pale man. “Wait, _our_ room? I am perfectly able to buy my own!”

The Hunter merely gestured at the sign hanging in the window of the tavern, proudly declaring their single vacancy.

“That’s convenient,” she grumbled. “Sorry… But I can still help pay for it.”

She was ignored, and in her funk, she did not recall him paying for the room, nor did she remember following him there. In fact, he was already in the dark room, depositing the saddle and bags. She stood there, staring for a long while, before she groped for the light switch.

It was a quaint room. With only one bed. Where the duvet matched the pattern and color of the carpet. And a single chair to the left of it all. It was hard to look at. Well, there’s no accounting for taste.

Krista’s pulled her weapon from her waist and set it upon the dresser across from the bed. “You mind if I go bathe?” she quietly asked. At his soft no, she pulled her things from a bag and stumbled into the bathroom.

Sword at his side, D leaned against the headboard, listening to the running water. There he stayed for several minutes, eyes closed against the light in the room until she came back out. She shuffled across the room to the switch, combing the dripping locks with slim fingers.

With the light off, she collapsed in the chair with a sigh.

“Let me check your wounds.”

She groaned as she stood, shirt, armor, and arms lifted. Sure fingers prodded at the wound on her side. While it no longer wept, it was still angry. After a moment of gathering the necessary items, he rewrapped her side with another antibiotic and salve-soaked cloth. Every other stitched wound was fine.

“Where is your splint?” he asked softly, hands running down her shin.

“In the bathroom. I still couldn’t figure out how to put it back on and I didn’t feel like I needed it too much.” She watched him disappear into the bathroom with a scowl. “I feel like a bloody child with all this mothering.”

The man did not reply as he returned and secured the splint about her still-swollen leg. It felt leagues better, but it wasn’t healed.

She curled up in the chair once out of his hold, knees to her chest, toes wriggling contently. Her cloak pulled about her shoulders, she waited for sleep to greet her. Instead, she felt the piercing gaze of the man in black. “What?”

Leaned against the wall, he gestured at the bed. “You should sleep on the bed so your wounds heal properly.”

The glare she sent him was almost chilling for someone of her disposition and stature. As if another side lie dormant, waiting to make its grand entrance. Just as quickly, the look was gone. A serene smile lifted her lips. “Nah, you should take the bed. I slept on your pallet, seems only fitting. Besides, I’m fine.”

D watched as she curled in on herself and swiftly fell asleep, eyes studying her figure. Not much had changed since the day before but she did appear less sickly.

“A bit stubborn, isn’t she,” the creature started, twisting D’s left hand about to better see the girl.

Indeed. This would be a long job should he need to deal with a stubborn mule the entire time.

A stubborn mule missing a front and back leg. And no common sense.

“You know, speaking of stubborn…”

If the man were inclined to show emotion, he might’ve rolled his eyes and sighed in exasperation.

“ _You_ need to _rest_. We went over this the other day. All you are doing is running headlong into a case of Sunlight Syndrome. It might be the death of her if you decided to show your fangs,” it chortled.

He did not respond, gently pulling Krista from the chair and settling her tiny frame on the bed. Like it or not, this is where she needed to be. He left her wrapped in her cloak as he claimed the chair, legs crossed and arms folded across his chest.

“Hey, you better not stay up again just to watch her. I mean, did you even sleep last night?”

Before the creature could finish, D was tilting his head down, entering a dreamless realm somewhere between awake and asleep.

\---

She doubled over and wiped at her face and eyes, breathing heavily. Had she been running? Was she crying?

“What is going on around here?” she questioned, continuing to gasp for air as she headed down the road. The streets seemed so familiar. Eerily so. And as she took in the scene, she saw a woman standing just down the road. Behind her stood a maliciously smiling figure. Canines, elongated and painfully sharp, shined. Faster than her eyes could follow, the figure hoisted the woman over his shoulder and disappeared.

She turned, eyes catching sight of another figure, and had the fleeting thought that he might be the same as the last figure. But, something about his presence made her feel ill, and as a lurid light coursed through his eyes, she cried.

The figure extended a slim hand, as if trying to gain her confidence.

She reached back, almost calmed by his actions, before she spied the figure lurking at his back. She screamed one letter. One name. She screamed ‘D’.

A sword tip exited his chest and blood erupted from his mouth, painted her crimson.

She could only watch in horror as the blade was twisted free, the figure leaning in close to the collapsing man. No words he spoke were clear to her and a pair of hands hoisted her over a lean shoulder. “Say good riddance to your Dhampir,” he breathed.

It was only then that she began to struggle and laughter filled the night air.

“I would stop struggling. It’s no use. You are-”

_ October 29, 13,012 _

Krista flailed wildly in the blanket and cloak surrounding her, panic stricken and gasping for air. The world around her slowly came into focus. “Oh, thank God, it was just a dream,” she breathed, detangling herself from the duvet of doom. ‘ _But what is a diaper? No. A dam… Dammmmpur? And that was D? Is D a Diaper?_ ’

‘ ** _Well, you did call the man ‘D’. I should think so. But better yet! Did you see the way the blood burst from his chest?! It was like a blooming flower!_** ’

An involuntary shudder ran through Krista at the thought of a skewered D. ‘ _You’re being a pain. I’d rather not think about it._ ’ She looked about the dark room, secretly relieved to see D residing in the chair, his damp hair shielding his face, steam leaking from the bathroom.

Although his head remained down, D watched Krista continue her fight for freedom, kicking and biting. He merely clenched his fist as the creature giggled to itself.

“Hmm, I wonder what she dreamt about. Maybe you? She seems pretty upset about it.”

She did, hands shaking as she pulled back the curtain to observe the town still cloaked in night. With a quiet sigh, she dropped the fabric and skittered towards D. She leaned forward until her forehead touched the edge of D’s broad hat, irises shining in the nonexistent light as she stared at him.

Onyx eyes snapped up to stare her down and she stumbled backwards, laughing nervously. “Sorry, I popped your personal bubble.” At the quiet statement, she plucked invisible pieces from the air and floor, pretending to patch his ‘bubble’. “There!” she exclaimed.

There was a long silence as she pulled on her boots. “What is it?”

“Well, I wanted to know why I was on the bed. I know I fell asleep right there.”

“Your wounds need to heal properly,” D replied coolly, rising from the chair and towering over her.

Despite the sight and tone of his voice raising the fine hairs on her body, she glared up at him. “And I said I was fine, but… you’re right.” She sighed, looking down. “You’ve been right. I apologize.”

At his light nod, she lifted her club from the dresser and latched it to her belt. “When do we leave?” In answer he settled his sword upon his back and hefted the saddle onto his shoulder. “I will… I will fetch your horse.”

Little more than a dark, petite blur as she passed, Krista no less than sprinted down to the stables to retrieve the impressive beast. Halfway there and he watched as it came charging out, the girl clinging to the reins as she struggled to keep up. She ultimately failed and slid across the ground until the horse stopped by D’s side to be saddled.

She’d have been content to lie there a moment longer had the horse not stomped a hoof next to her face. “I get it; we need to go.” Without much thought, she grasped D’s waiting hand and mounted before him, careful not to disengage him from the saddle with a swift kick to the head.

Wouldn’t want him matching her in the bruises department.

Several minutes passed as the horse galloped across the land. It was almost shocking how suddenly the green of the trees and lush grass deteriorated into a mottled brown, leaving before them an expanse of sand she could see no end to. It seemed to fit the term ‘barren wasteland’ and it showed just how drastically the weather controllers could affect the land.

A light tap to her bandaged side startled her out of her thoughts and she tipped her head back hurriedly. “Yeah?”

“What is that wound from?” D enquired.

Pale cheeks flushed with embarrassment as she smiled sheepishly. “When I was a fair distance from Puregon, I ran across this _massive_ creature! It decided I was gonna be lunch, I guess. I don’t really know how I got away, but I’m gonna assume it choked on my cloak and bag. But when it had me in the air, my belly was exposed.” She jabbed at the air with a closed fist. “And he got me.”

With a light slap to her side, she looked to the passing ground and laughed. “This is what happens when you can’t take care of yourself. This is what happens when the town you live in refuses to find a solution to a big problem.”

“People began disappearing over night?”

“Yeah.”

“Are you aware of any Nobles in the vicinity of the town?”

Krista blindly watched the horse’s hooves kick up sand, searching the depths of her mind. “Well, I guess you could call Mister Alistair and Missus Carnegie nobles? They were never lacking in money, though why they would want to settle in a place like that…” She shrugged. “But I don’t see what rich people have to do with kidnappings.”

The horse whinnied and bucked in protest as D tightened his grip on the reins and jerked. Krista flipped over the protesting animal’s head, face breaking her fall first. There was a ringing in her ears as she pulled her head from the sand, and it was almost maddening.

“This is not a joking matter,” the countenanced carbuncle growled. “You know damn well that isn’t what was meant by ‘Noble’.”

“What is there to joke about?” she moaned, clutching at her head. “You asked, I bloody answered! What did you mean if not that?!”

“A Noble is a Vampire,” D stated as she lifted her torso from the ground.

“Well, what is that?”

D edged the horse forward, eyes narrowed as he stared her down. If she did not know of Vampires, then perhaps that was the reason behind her strange answers. And perhaps by ‘you people’, she’d merely meant people hired to hunt her down.

“Vampires, self-proclaimed as Nobles, are creatures of the Night that feed off the blood of Humans,” he finally replied, tone severe.

“They feed off… blood? Really?” She eyed him suspiciously, rubbing her ears as if that would alleviate her problems. “That’s weird. But hey, if they like to live in manors just outside of town, I suppose Puregon is a good place to look. I mean… there’s only one, but people have avoided it for as long as I can remember.”

A long moment drug by before Krista worked up the courage to meekly ask, “Am I allowed back up?” She gingerly settled into her spot at his slight shift, finding her mind drifting over the information. One would think the existence of these ‘creatures of the Night’ would have been mentioned at some point. But nothing came to mind.

‘ ** _I bet they were keeping us in the dark. If his reaction is anything to go by._** ’

‘ _But why would they do that?_ ’

Krista could almost feel the voice shrug. ‘ ** _Shit if I know._** ’

For a moment, she felt truly angry at the man. Just as quickly, it was gone. She’d been rather irritable lately, especially since leaving the orphanage. Especially since meeting the man. ‘ _Is that you making me so upset all the time?_ ’

‘ ** _Eh, probably. You do seem to get bitchy when I get suspicious or agitated at the behemoth behind us._** ’

‘ _Well, stop! He isn’t doing anything wrong. He’s helped us so much! What’s there to be suspicious of?!_ ’ The voice did not answer, and she had to wonder if the voice had been a figment of her imagination.

‘ ** _I’m not your imagination._** ’

She scoffed openly, unaware of the man’s speculative and sharp gaze. ‘ _Then what is your name? And where did you come from?_ ’

‘ ** _You know, I don’t remember. But I_ do _know that I have_ always _been with you._** ’

“Huh.” She frowned, blinking slowly.

D had noticed her gaze grow distant, eyes glazed, and whether she realized it, she’d murmured quietly each reply to the voice in her mind. He made sure to commit the sight to memory. And with a gradual tilt of her head, she focused on him.

“I’m sorry,” she said. “I know I said it before, but… I don’t wanna be so ugly to you. I don’t mean to be.”

“I’m accustomed to it,” he replied.

“That doesn’t make it better!” she retorted. “It doesn’t give me a reason to accuse you of stuff or be suspicious of your motives. Just know that I am sorry for everything I have done and will no doubt do. And thank you for helping me.”

He gave a delayed nod, and that is when Krista started to wonder if something was wrong. For the next few hours she was silent, normally oblivious to things around her but also realizing something was off as the sun climbed higher into the sky. Despite the space between them, dare she say he felt rather warm against her back? Perhaps it was just the sun.

They stopped off in the next town to let the horse drink and rest for a bit at the trough.

Or, so she told herself.

The Hunter drifted in the opposite direction of the girl towards shade. Once enough distance was between the two, the creature in his hand snarled. “God _dammit_!”

A few people turned in search of the outburst but did not assume the man.

“I _warned_ you!” it growled quieter, air hissing between clenched teeth. “And yet, here we are!”

“We will stop in the next town,” he answered calmly. A slight chill ran down his spine.

“If you make it that far.”

A long moment passed before the creature sighed. “Well, don’t you think it’s a bit odd she doesn’t know about Nobles?” A quiet affirmation in answer, it continued. “It explains a lot. Her answers, her memories. Which brings up the big question right now: why did you stop for her?”

The Hunter answered the same. “Curious.”

“You said that! There’s gotta be something more! But I guess I’ll have to wait for the juicy details another day.”

Krista slowly approached. She fingered a loose string on her shirt and chuckled. “I think your horse is done.”

Indeed, it seemed so.

The beast stood tall, giving an impossibly indignant look for a horse as it strained the reins still tied to a post. He gently stroked its muzzle once at its side. This horse had come far with him, perhaps farther than most.

“Are you feeling okay?”

D nodded, slowly blinking as he turned his gaze upon the girl and her skeptical look.

“You sure?” He merely nodded again. She wasn’t convinced. While she couldn’t be certain, she was almost sure something was off. His aura? Yes, perhaps that is what was alerting her because he looked… normal? Pale. But, was he really any paler? No, definitely his aura as it shuddered like disturbed smoke hanging in a tavern. Because, surely this man was not smoking.

\---

The sun, high in the sky, scorched her skin and left her a sweaty mess. Had it been this hot when she came through? Or was it the lack of wind? She had to wonder how D could stand it.

Truth be told, he was fairing worse than her. A cold chill engulfed him, and yet, his exposed skin felt aflame. If he could hold out, they would be at the next town within a half-hour. Sooner, really. He’d lasted this long, surely he could last that much longer.

His strength waned, posture faltered, breath labored.

Just a bit longer. The town was in sight.

Much the same as a bad dream, his vision swam, eyes jerking and unable to focus on the surroundings. Or perhaps it was more like a vague dream, where the scenes glitch and glide around oneself. An unclear story not meant to be grasped.

“D, your hands are smoking!”

So they were.

Shaking hands pressed the reins into her grasp before biting painfully into the flesh of her shoulders. This girl, she was small beneath his hands. Almost painfully small. Standing, she barely passed mid-chest. It was a wonder he did not drag her from the saddle as consciousness slipped from his grasp.

Krista pulled on the reins, staring dumbly at the Hunter sprawled ungracefully on the ground. Did the intimidating man really just… flake out on her? Without sparing another moment she slid from the saddle and stumbled towards his prone figure, scooping up his fallen hat on her way. Trembling fingers gripped the armor stretched across his chest.

She shook him.

“Wake up! I’m not a doctor! I can’t fix you like you fixed me! Oh! Maybe you got too hot.” She frantically flapped the hat in his face. “Or maybe he needs some water?” A deep breath filled her lungs as she prepared screech at the heavens, but a hoarse voice stayed her.

“Both of those are good starts, but I have a suggestion,” the creature chirped. “You could find a shady spot and plant him for a bit.”

The left hand rose to eyelevel, small eyes narrowed in mirth and agitation at her. She pointed a finger at the wrinkled face with a twitch of her eye. “I wondered why D sounded like he had something stuck in his throat, but… this is strange.”

So perhaps she had known to a degree.

“Got a problem though, hand thingy,” she muttered. “Do I plant him under the shade of the barrel cactus or the shade of the whipping cactus?”

The countenanced carbuncle sighed after a quick look about. “The next best thing is somewhere dark and cool. Get him back on that horse and pray the clinic has a basement. A morgue will do, too.”

She shuddered as she struggled to lift the Hunter, extremely grateful the horse sensed her frustration and settled on the ground before her. “Let’s really hope for the first one. I would rather not sleep among the dead.”

Once they were settled on the horse, the large beast lurched upwards and bolted towards the town. They’d been about two miles out of town when D collapsed and the gate set in the weathered wall was opening by the time they arrived.

If she focused she could spy the female guard wearing binoculars ordering the gate to be closed behind them. But she barely noticed, too preoccupied with the scene unfolding before her. People in the streets scattered as the horse charged through with panicked screams and cursing. It was chaotic at best.

One lone nurse stood before the hospital, watching the horse create an uproar, and Krista had to wonder how the beast knew where to go. Thankfully, it gradually slowed to a stop, nickering and stomping at the startled nurse.

The woman peeked around the horse, eyeing the flushed girl and smoking man laid over the saddle. Her round eyes narrowed. “Can I help you?”

“Will you help him? I’m told he would be better in a dark, cool place, like a basement.”

“Miss, is your friend _Human?_ ”

“Does it _matter?!_ He’s my friend and I prefer him _alive_ ,” Krista snapped, glaring at the woman. “ _Please help him_.”

The woman seemed to deliberate a moment longer before letting loose a piercing whistle, alerting two male nurses to bring a gurney. “We will take him down below. Just follow the signs.”

She sped through stabling the horse, despite its reluctance, and struggled to lug the saddle and bags back to the clinic. How could that man carry it all around like it was nothing?! Maybe she was just weak.

The signs pointing the way clearly stated ‘morgue’, but she was relieved to see the nurse outside a room marked for autopsy. The rooms were considerably cooler and painfully dark with the lights off, leaving her chilled as she passed the nurse. Or perhaps, it was the nurse that left her chilled?

Krista turned on her heel after depositing the equipment, taken aback by the look of utter disgust on the woman’s face, her nose wrinkled and eyes narrowed. “Thank you,” she murmured to the nurse, eyes wide.

Lips pressed together in a firm line, she tipped her head at the cabinets along the wall. “Rags are under the sink. My name is Anna if you need anything.” She made it a point to look anywhere but at them, leaving before Krista could ask anything of her. Only once she was far enough away did she hiss out, “Damn abomination and his whore, tainting this place.”

“I wonder why I feel like her name isn’t really ‘Anna’.” Krista ran a damp cloth across D’s forehead. At least he was no longer smoking. “Hey, hand thingy? What’s a ‘whore’?”

“Don’t worry about it, kid. It’s not important.” The hand twisted over to see her, chuckling at her childish pout. “Hand thingy, though? Maybe you can shorten that?”

She was dejected, but managed a smile at the creature. “Hand?”

“Sure, kid.”

Upon a rolling chair she scooted closer, fingering the cloth of the man’s coat as she studied them. “Is he gonna be okay?”

“Sure. Just a little heat exhaustion. He’s been through much worse.”

She flinched, almost able to feel warm blood splatter against her face.

It did not escape Hand’s notice. “What was that about? Does it have to do with your dream last night?”

Eyes vacant she stammered out, “Gods, I… it was a very vivid dream. Not very clear sometimes, but it felt real. I mean, what’s a diaper? No, Dham… Dhampir?”

“Tell me your dream.”

So she did, fingers worrying the fabric of the coat as she relayed the dream with as much detail as she could manage. Her skin prickled, thoroughly spooked by the idea that the dream could be more than just a dream.

This man, despite how little she knew him and how suspicious she was of him originally, was not someone she wanted to lose. And part of her could trust him with her life. A man who appeared no more than twenty years old surrounded in a ghastly aura that no longer put her on edge. A man who’d almost killed her upon their first meeting.

That man, so stoic.

And yet…

Her brain hurt.

She leaned her head against the cool metal of D’s table, eyes closed as she prayed nothing came of the dream. She wouldn’t wonder if he would die, but she could hope not.

A burning sensation crept along her spine.

A quick glance up and she lurched back in surprise, flailing as her chair tipped and dumped her on the floor with a loud clatter. Her heart sputtered. She struggled to focus on D’s figure, now knowing the previously gleaming eyes were not a threat. “Bloody hell. Are you feeling better?” she asked, scrambling to her feet.

Nodding, D pushed himself up on a shaking arm. This was no ‘dirt nap’, but it worked. He eyed the reddened skin of his hand.

“If you’re wondering, Hand told me what to do.” She pulled the chair back up, brow furrowed as she passed him the cool cloth. “If you weren’t feeling good at the last town, you should have said so.”

He did not respond as he tugged his sword free and cradled it in his arms. The nurses had not bothered to remove it and it was painfully uncomfortable to lay upon. “Sleep,” he eventually breathed.

“Aye!” With a half-hearted salute, she collapsed in the chair and wrapped herself in the cloak. Slowly, one finger inched out of the dark cloth to point warningly at him. “You better stay there. This is not something I want to repeat.”

In answer he stretched out on the table. He wouldn’t fight the girl this round, even if he had the energy. Instead, he listened for the slowing of her breath and the steadying of her heart. It came.

“D, we need to talk,” Hand murmured.

And just as quickly, her signs of sleep fled.

He cast her a sidelong glance.

It could have been a trick of the lighting.

Electric blue eyes stared back, narrowing in agitation before she released a puff of air. “ **Well, don’t let me interrupt you…** ” The startlingly blue eyes lost their color and closed. A quiet snore filled the air.

This time she was certainly asleep.

“That was odd…” The hand twisted around to face him. “It could be nothing, but I wanna talk about the kid’s dream.”

_ October 30, 13,012 _

In the soft hues of twilight they left, never once approached by the clinic’s staff. And despite the stable hand’s best efforts, the gargantuan horse was forcing its way through the doors to meet them. As they passed through the northern gate, Krista had to wonder why the guards seemed so tense, knuckles white as they clutched their weapons.

They did not seem so on edge the day prior.

And so they traveled, carving a path through the sand as they followed the markers stretching out onto the horizon.

The horizon.

Dawn had long since passed when Krista turned to the Hunter. “How do you know we’re going the right way?” He did not answer. “Do you _know_ if we _are?!_ ”

“Asks the girl who came this way before,” he murmured.

Nose wrinkled, eyes narrowed, and upper lip drawn back, Krista threw her head back against his chest with an obnoxious groan, the noise more befitting of a dying animal. “You’re killin’ me.”

Acidic green eyes stared past him after a moment, slowly widening in shock. “You know what? I don’t care so much about direction. I wanna know what’s wrong with that cloud.”

A cloud, small and unassuming, hovered in the clear sky.

“It’s… just being a cloud, kid.”

It suddenly swirled and swelled, shining garishly as it encompassed the sun.

“No, no… I don’t think that is a normal cloud activity.” As if to spite her, it released a torrent of rain right over the travelers. “And if clouds could, I’d swear this one is peeing on us.”

It rained harder.

Just over them.

“Okay!” she yelled. “I get it!” The rain suddenly stopped, and she had to wonder if the cloud was alive in some way as the fine hairs on her body raised.

Its ethereal glow intensified, great arcs of electricity leaping from within its folds to strike the land. Another gush of water. Despite the freakish weather, D seemed unbothered and merely navigated the horse around the quickly forming pools of quicksand and glass. It would not surprise him if the cloud was sentient, nor would it surprise him if it was all coincidence, the result of a weather controller malfunctioning.

Lightning danced just above the ground when they came upon the next town around Noon, and just as quickly as the storm formed, it was gone with a rolling explosion. In fact, Krista would swear the ball of fluff looked smug as it zipped over the town.

This town, much like Puregon and many other towns residing in the desert, was surrounded by a high wall. She had to wonder why, but at the same time she was not overly concerned. Marauders? Were the storms a larger threat than she was aware of?

‘ ** _Maybe to keep people like us out._** ’

“Pfft, probably,” she muttered aloud.

With the gates falling behind them, they meandered down to the tavern. The beast seemed more than pleased with the small break at the stables, face buried in the closest hay bale. Inside the tavern, smoke swirled in the wake of the women scampering about.

In little more than undergarments, Krista had to wonder, “Why are they dressed like that?” She was led to a more secluded corner.

“It’s likely this place also serves as a cathouse,” D replied. As if on cue, one of the women led a man towards the rooms at the back.

“A cathouse?” Krista leaned forward to glance around the Hunter, eyes wide in wonder. “Are they going back there to pet cats? Can we go pet cats, D?!” This time, she tipped towards D, lips pulled back over her teeth in an excited smile.

The creature residing in his hand emitted a strangled, choking sound before sputtering, “Are you serious?!” The hand flailed. “You can’t wave this off, D! We need to get this kid outta here!”

A girl sashayed up to the table, eyes hooded as she stretched over the worn wood. “Is there _anything_ I can get you two?” She smiled sweetly and slowly fluttered her eyelashes.

“Water.”

“Can we go pet cats?!”

“They don’t pet cats here,” interrupted D.

“Well, sure we do, honey. For the right price, of course,” the woman replied.

“No, you do not,” he stated, sending her a dark look.

“Go get the waters!” Hand suddenly growled, exasperated.

With a pout the woman sauntered off to retrieve their glasses. And Krista stared at D. “Why call it a cathouse if they don’t do things with cats?”

They did, just not the things she was expecting.

Water in hand, Krista turned her attention to the room, once more. She eyed the people flocking to the back and the patrons drinking themselves silly. The occasional male was even spied whisking people to the back. “If they are petting cats, they even got guys doing it…” she grumbled with a long sigh.

“There are no animals here!”

“But, Hand!” She flung her hands above her head and flapped them in a vague gesture at the room. “Why call it a _cat house_?”

“If I call it a brothel, will that make you understand?”

A blank look. After a long moment of silence, she stood and headed for the door.

“Where’re you going, kid?” Hand called as D left enough to cover their drinks and stood to follow.

Without looking back, Krista pushed through the door and into the scorching sun. “I’m going to find a dictionary.”

D gently grasped her shoulder. “It’s not important.”

“Y’all talk as if I should know this stuff.”

At the soft shake of his head, she allowed him to guide her to the steed no longer lost in its meal. There again, things kept from her.

A quick glance at the sky. The Hunter lifted a collapsed facemask from the saddle, popping it open to slip over the horse’s face. Despite the contraption effectively covering the entirety of its head, the horse seemed at ease. Its ears flickered, cover following the movement.

“What’s that for, D?” Krista mounted as D finished securing the object.

“There’s a sandstorm brewing,” he answered simply. Once settled behind the girl, he tugged up his scarf.

Outside the town gates they were blasted by wind. Sand hung thick in the air. With only her hooded cloak, Krista ducked down and pulled it closed. Part of her wondered how the Hunter could see with the sand in his eyes, but figured if he was willing to press on, she had no need to worry.

\---

The sun was long settled beyond the horizon by the time they stopped, horse resting contently by the pool of water in the pitifully miniscule oasis. Just big enough to house a handful of reptiles and small mammals. It was peaceful.

Peaceful until a loud rumble broke the quiet.

“I’m hungry!” Krista suddenly exclaimed, creeping over to the saddlebags with a sheepish smile.

The Hunter observed as she pulled a handful of crackers from the tin and an apple from the bag, consuming the food with a ferocity one might expect of a starving dog. For a moment, she felt like one. It was a hunger so sudden and fierce it felt as if her stomach was attempting to devour itself. But he watched as she quickly slowed, nibbling at the half-eaten apple.

“Well, that was good. Can the horse have the rest?”

He gave a soft nod and watched as she tossed the remainder to the beast. Not concerned, per se, but… he found it odd that she did eat so little. It’d been three days and this was all she could be bothered to consume. It was no wonder she appeared a tad emaciated.

“D, have you eaten?”

“No,” he responded simply.

“Shouldn’t you?”

“You should be eating more.”

Krista pouted like a chastised child. “I told you. I lost my appetite.”

“Specifically,” he started, leaning against the trunk of a tree, “you stated you’ve stopped eating. Is there a reason why?”

“I don’t see how it matters. Besides, I don’t really know why.”

“When did you leave?”

She put a crooked finger to her lips in thought. “I don’t even remember today’s date, but I’m going to guess that it’s been a few weeks. Got turned around a couple of times. My side got infected. Days seemed to run together for a bit after that.”

A soft shrug. “Doesn’t matter. All that matters is that I found you. _That_ is the real mystery. How did I manage to get hunted by the person I needed?”

D watched as she curled into her cloak with a mumbled ‘goodnight’, a small smile lifting her lips. At least a few weeks, huh? Did she not understand just how many could disappear in that amount of time?

_ October 31, 13,012 _

Quiet splashing roused her from slumber.

“Deciding to be a tad more Human, are we?”

More splashing. If she had to guess, she figured he was probably dunking his left hand more than his right.

She snapped up, shaking the sand from her cloak as she lurched towards the water and dunked her head in. Despite the distortion from the water, she could clearly hear ‘happy birthday’ from her two companions. And she was shocked. Was that really today? Had she really lost track of that much time?

Why did he even bother with remembering?

A loud gasp fled her lips as she pulled back. Water poured down her face. She could lie to herself and say that it was all water, but her quivering lips were proof enough to the sharp Hunter as she choked out, “Thank y’all.” She fled the water’s edge.

“ **Why are you bloody crying?!** ” she blurted out, but the voice was not her own. It felt strange and strained, but she couldn’t be bothered to care in that moment.

In a childish show of joy, she quietly squealed and danced in place, leg aching with the jarring movements. She didn’t care. “He didn’t need to remember, but he’s one of the few who bothered…” Her excitement wore off. “I got way too excited, huh.”

The voice was silent, almost as if to say it was obvious she did. But for a moment, she felt she could fly if she really wanted.

And then she came to a startling realization. “I’ve been gone for over a month. Dammit!”

\---

In the sea of sand, a great opening stretched before them. It was round and smooth, and likely it could swallow a large house. The Hunter eyed the hole, guiding the horse around the edge with a soft click of his tongue. More dotted the land, but these were of no concern.

His focus was on the happenings below the ground.

“You know what this means, D,” stated Hand.

Indeed, he did. “Hongares, but they are far from their lands.” But why were they so far from home?

The ground bulged beneath them.

With a none-too-pleased snort, the horse trotted back. Just in time, too. The ground continued to swell, sand churning and pitching. A loud pop reminiscent of a discharging firearm and noxious fumes spewed from the opening.

A doglike head appeared, peering over the edge of the fresh opening. Long ears flattened against its skull before it released a bloodcurdling screech and dipped back out of view. Another noise soon filled the sudden quiet. It was a noise that spread chills along the listener’s skin; deep, haunting, shaking the very earth with its intensity.

Krista whimpered and clutched at his arm. “That was half the size of the one that tried to eat me.”

“Then the one that tried to eat you was only a few months old,” Hand muttered.

D snapped the reins as the girl gasped weakly, face draining of color as she looked behind them at the bubbling ground. Like waves at the coming of high tide, the ground rolled forward, golden fur glistening in the sun as the behemoths surged from the ground.

They circled, shaking the earth with their long strides, paws large enough to easily crush the horse and its riders. Eyes black as pitch narrowed at them, lips drawn back across jagged teeth more than capable of shredding through their bones. Five tails writhed at their backs. Fur bristled in agitation.

“I’d rather not be this thing’s new chew toy,” muttered Hand.

Krista agreed. “Yeah, I don’t wanna be a tasty morsel today.”

She screamed, panicked as the horse abruptly lurched off to one side and danced just out of range of gnashing teeth, in fear of being thrown from the saddle as it bolted. All around them the ground churned and heaved, gasses bursting from the ground and closely followed by the Hongares.

A quiet ringing.

A flash of silver.

The Hunter at her back shuddered and she cast her eyes up, jaw dropping in awe. A sharp, bonelike protrusion, stayed by the blade poised above their heads, pressed down against him. She knew just how easily the rigid spines could shred through flesh, side aching fiercely at the memory. And yet, he slowly extended his arm as though it were a mere nuisance, pushing it back.

Had she not thought so about that dark man before, she was certain in that moment that he was not someone to be trifled with.

A sound that reminded her strongly of tearing through the skin of chicken filled the air. To be honest, it sounded disgusting.

And surely, if she were traveling back home alone, she would be dead. In a move faster than she could follow, he extended his opposite arm, dagger in hand, and halted the advance of another protrusion. Had he been slower to the draw, that sharp spine would have impaled her from her left shoulder to her right hip.

Why wasn’t the horse still running?

Her eyes swiveled down. Iron shod hooves tore through the sand at an almost lazy pace but with enough power to throw sand into the air. It was still running.

' ** _Just imagine. If adrenaline is making the horse seem slow, how fast do you think he is moving?_** ’

Was this man even Human? Because, despite the great feats of strength and speed she’d seen over the past decade, he far outshined everything. She shivered.

‘ ** _Ah, you can feel it now more than ever, can’t you? This man is on a whole ‘nother level. I don’t think he is even moving as fast as he can. I bet we haven’t even seen the beginning of what he is capable of._** ’

Another pathetic whimper left her teeth-worried lips as she closed her eyes. However, she couldn’t say that she was afraid of the man deftly deflecting dexterous spines. No, if anything, it was the voice calmly pointing these small things out, making her realize that…

This world was probably not as simple as she thought.

Hot, dry wind slapped against their faces as a shriek left the Hongare scampering away from them, blood gushing from the spines. The horse continued to dance around death, taking them just out of range of nipping teeth and shifting spines. Of tearing talons and thrashing tails.

The world fell quiet.

They rode for a moment more, giving the Hunter time to sheathe his blades before they turned to observe. Like leash-bound guard dogs they pawed at the earth and let out shrill yips, crowded together but advancing no further.

“What are they doing, D?”

“We exited their territory,” he replied, slowly prying her fingers loose from his arm, though she didn’t seem to realize she’d grabbed hold in the first place. “Seems someone desired glorified watchdogs.”

“But we’re so far from town! What’s the point of having those things if they eat first and watch later?!”

“I’m not sure.”

A gurgling noise.

The group cast their gaze to the Hongares, watching as the largest of them hunched, skin rippling and jerking. Another gurgle left it, sizzling spit dripping from its gradually unhinging jaw.

D softly nudged the horse back.

With a sound akin to pulling one’s foot from deep mud, the Hongare vomited a wad of acid that splattered against the sand where they previously resided.

“Egh! That’s disgusting!”

The rest of the ‘pack’ soon followed the ‘alpha’s’ example. The collective sound of the heaving creatures was enough to upset some of the strongest of stomachs. The man in black was unsurprisingly unfazed, guiding the horse northward as acid splattered about behind them, sand sinking and melting.

“I can’t believe that they travel in packs. I guess I was fortunate, only running into one. A baby, no less!” Krista exclaimed, lips curling in a wide smile. “And you! That was _amazing_! I’ve never seen someone move so fast! And you’re so strong!”

She continued to gush even as the Hunter turned his thoughts elsewhere. It really was queer the creatures were this far north. Most tended to stay along the equator where it was warm through the year. They were definitely being used as watchdogs. It did not make sense that they were attacking willy-nilly, though.

“Something must have stirred them up or spooked them,” Hand muttered.

He could only agree as he watched Krista flip head first out of the saddle and into the sand.


	3. Never Was Home

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank y'all, again, for reading this. And the kudos!
> 
> I really appreciate it!
> 
> Also, if you're inclined to do so, leave a comment! Tell me what you think!

_ October 31, 13,012 (Evening) _

Darkness descended upon the travelers as they came upon a walled city, fading light from the sun not enough to bring life back to the abandoned gate that stood gaping. No guards. No flickering lamps.

Nothing.

Dread settled in the pit of Krista’s stomach as she walked alongside the horse, the Hunter a few steps ahead of her. Someone was always manning the gates.

A small voice begged to run. Another growled to tough it out.

‘ ** _You should ask him._** ’

It was such poor timing. She’d had all this time to ask since their short stay at the hospital, and yet… it was almost an urgent terror that had her vomiting out the question before she could think otherwise. “D, what is a Dhampir?”

He faltered midstride.

“I just… I tried to ask Hand, but…”

Onyx eyes flared an unnatural color in the dim light, swiveling to observe the fidgeting girl as she toed the ground. A part of him wondered why she would ask. She barely grasped the concept of Nobles, so how could she know what a Dhampir was? But a quick look into his memory provided him with an eerie reminder that the girl had heard it in a dream. “A Dhampir is the result of a Human and Noble procreating; a half-breed.”

He watched as she pulled at her hair with one hand while she scratched at her upper arm with the other, face scrunching up in disgust as she worried her lower lip. “So… are you a Dhampir?”

His case of ‘heat exhaustion’ was proof enough, one would think, even if she glossed over his appearance and reputation. “I am,” he answered succinctly.

Face contorting to the point of strained, she fought the urge to attack the foreboding wall. All that time spent living within its bloody embrace and not one person mentioned Nobles. Not one person breathed a word about people roaming this earth being anything other than Human.

“ **They were keeping us in the dark.** ” She snapped her eyes shut. There had to be a reason. There _had to be!_

A quiet clacking against the cobblestone road just inside the gate drew her attention. The Hunter was leaving her behind. For the moment, she would forget her anger and confusion, looking only towards the end of this journey. Strange how she felt this would only be the beginning, but if after tonight she stayed in the town, she felt a little discussion was in order with the orphanage director. The mayor. Anyone she could get her hands on.

She sighed loudly as she caught up to D. “Well, I was hoping for the best when I came across you, but I didn’t figure I’d been gone for over a month. I should have been faster.”

“It isn’t your fault.”

Eyes wide, brows slowly climbing towards her hairline, Krista focused the near-scathing look at D. “I left here, partly out of fear, just hoping I could find someone to deal with this. I heard rumors of a mercenary for hire and ran for them. Are you well known, D? Because part of me is either stupidly lucky or painfully unlucky. I didn’t even know the name of the person I was looking for! I just happened to get on someone’s shit list and eventually had the type of person I was looking for come after me!”

The Hunter continued further into town as Hand quietly commented on her pity party.

“I think I can have a pity party,” she grumbled back. “I can’t help but feel at fault for how empty this place feels.”

He had to admit, the town was exceedingly hollow-feeling. The size of Puregon would have him believe that, at one point, it was home to over eight thousand people. Now, there was no telling. It was rather outlandish to suggest that a single Noble would devour half that number alone in just over a month.

There had to be several.

Unless they were not hunting for sustenance.

“Tell me about the estate on the hill.”

“Hmm? Oh.” She eyed the structure for a moment before shrugging. “Not much to say, really. I already said all I knew. We could ask Miss Haldwyn. She was… much more tolerant of my _existence_. Really kind, too. Just all around nice.”

For a moment longer, they observed the estate. Although she could not, he could see the flicker of a flame through a window. Most likely a fireplace was the source.

“Y’know, I _am_ gonna go see if Miss Haldwyn can talk for a minute. She’s about a block away.”

Down the road he heard her scamper, riding boots scattering stray rocks as she went. For a moment, he simply took in the surroundings and left the horse at a nearby trough with a reassuring pat, following at a pace that bordered on leisurely. The scorching sensation of eyes, hungry and agitated, followed their short walk.

To the trained eye, there was nothing casual about his stance, shoulders tense and posture rigid. Steps calculated.

Truthfully, Krista was painfully unaware. Yes, the lack of activity in the town agitated the fine hairs on the nape of her neck and made her scalp crawl, but she could not sense the growing danger as her knuckles rapped on the weatherworn door.

The door swung inward with a loud screech at her short, yet urgent, knocking. “Well,” she muttered, hand falling limply to her side. “Her door’s always been loud, but never just…” The crimson haired girl trailed off, hand clamping down over her mouth and nose as the almost-rancid air assaulted her.

Thick and choking, sticky and _disgusting_.

If she hadn’t found her feet frozen in their place, she might have scrambled back and emptied her stomach. She couldn’t even find it in her to skitter to the Hunter’s side at his beckoning, heart fluttering in a panicked rhythm that provided no life to her limbs.

“ _While I nodded, nearly napping, suddenly there came a tapping_.”

Despite her terror, Krista caught the object that flew through the door with a grunt. It was heavy. As though someone had thrown a sack of flour at her. Or a large baby. ‘ _But…_ ’

“ _As of some one gently rapping, rapping at my chamber door._ ”

Trembling digits clutched at damp hair and pliant flesh. She wouldn’t look.

“If I had known I would be having company, I might’ve cleaned up.”

She couldn’t look.

“You seem to be enjoying your reunion, though.”

A choked sob escaped her. Like a child seeking comfort from a stuffed toy, she cradled the object closer to her chest, praying that she’d fallen asleep on the horse and this was a bad dream.

‘ ** _You need to move_**.’

Krista jerked at the command, lurching backwards towards the stairs.

“Don’t run, girl. My companions might pounce at the very sight of you!”

She could hear it now. The distinct clang of weapons clashing. The sharp noise pierced her eardrums and disrupted the night air, chilled and heavy. Her back pressed into railing around the porch despite the warning.

“Riedikke,” the voice called. In response, a chilled hand pressed into her shoulder. “Take the poor teacher and make her comfortable, would you?”

“Of course,” replied Riedikke, leaning into Krista’s view to snag the severed head. “Hey, Teach! You have a nice chat? Oh. She wouldn’t look at you, huh?” The man dressed as a simple farmer clucked his tongue, running a pale hand through the bloodied locks of once-blonde hair.

Under different circumstances, one might call his downcast look fond. A small quirk of the lips and lidded eyes. Truly, a vision of contentedness. He strode a few paces forward, head rolling back to cast her the same gaze. “I know you don’t remember your past, but you would think you’d have better manners than this. At least greet her!”

He leveled the jawless head with her gaze and reveled in her horrified screech, his pale fingers curling into the empty eye sockets. A rough shudder and delightful chill ran down his spine. Oh, how he’d missed hearing this girl shriek. Now that she was back-

“Riedikke, please.”

“’Riedikke, please’,” he mocked quietly, lips turning down in displeasure. With a sigh, he weakly tossed the head towards the street and twisted the girl about. “Just get over there!” He wasn’t necessarily content with the situation, but he would find what pleasure he could for the moment. A rough shove towards the man in the house and he turned on his heel.

Even paler arms wrapped her in a possessive embrace, fingers splayed across her armored chest and belly. The man nuzzled her neck with a soft sniff. “The teacher tasted fairly decent, but I bet you would taste heavenly. Such a sweet scent.”

Krista lurched and writhed in terror, glancing up at the sandy-haired man. “T-taste?!”

The one identified as Riedikke seemed disinterested with the current happenings aside from his quiet chuckling at her exclamation, back turned on the two as he watched the man in black cleave his way through the multitude of foes. There was a lull in activity, however, at her panicked noises.

“Release the girl,” the Hunter commanded, gleaming blade finding home in the bosom of a woman long dead. Corpses littered the ground around them. None were Nobles, nor were they Humans. Empty husks guided by a puppeteer.

At the very least, there were few left.

“You heard the man! Let me _go_!”

The ashen man laughed loudly, squeezing Krista a bit harder. “The two of you are in no position to be demanding anything!”

A battle worthy screech erupted from the slim girl as she fisted the man’s clothes and pulled with all her might. Yes, she was at a disadvantage, hands not in prime locations for this maneuver, but she hoped and prayed she could roll him off her shoulder. Or, at least, that she could drop her shoulder into him as they both fell.

No.

No, it could _never_ be that easy.

He was lifted, yes, but he pulled his knees in towards his chest and stretched her arms up into a painfully awkward position. From there, he drove the heel of one booted foot into the space betwixt her shoulder blades.

Was there really space there? She could almost swear her scapulae clacked together with the forceful wrenching of her arms. Despite the situation, however, she couldn’t help but focus on the most trivial of things.

Strange, that of all times, she would take this moment to note how unnaturally chilled this man was. Perched like a canary-fed cat upon her back. Fingers digging, bruising. But why? Why was his flesh so utterly devoid of warmth?

Unless he was…

Surely Nobles were not… dead, were they?

Even D was warm. Chilled, but still brimming with life.

‘ ** _He’s a half-breed, you twit. He’s not gonna be like them._** ’

Her knees buckled with the information, never mind the creature upon her back.

Dead.

_Dead_.

These people were dead? But not dead. Not alive.

‘ ** _Don’t panic now. I wanna hear what he’s sayin’._** ’

Her breath was coming in rapid, short gasps. When had she started that?

‘ ** _Listen!_** ’ the voice screeched.

She did, struggling to calm her panting to appease the voice rattling her brain. Struggled to understand the bloody words coming out of the not-dead dead person.

“-fun with you first. Maybe tap you. After all, my only order is to catch you and keep you alive.” He chuckled, eyes narrowed in glee. “Loopholes are wonderful things.”

But all she could hear was ‘tap’.

What does he mean by ‘tap’? Would they stick a spigot in her? Is that how this works? Would they just… open it and collect her lifeblood like tree sap?

She wondered if they thought blood tasted like syrup.

Blood-soaked pancakes for dinner. _Mmm_ …

“I think you’re sending our little kitten into a panic, Lord Laun,” Riedikke breathed, eyes gleaming with twisted pleasure. He sat upon the stairs, but was wholly invested in her current state.

Something about his current smile.

Krista choked back bile and groaned.

“Say, you mind sharing this time?”

The head of a man suddenly pegged Riedikke, his body snapping forward, face slapping into the boards of the porch.

Under different circumstances, Krista might have laughed herself into a fit. Never mind the bloodied-nose adding to the ferocity of his current snarl. Forgo the issue that she’d just witnessed a man be decapitated.

The mere fact that her companion had gracefully spun upon his heel and kicked a man’s head off his shoulders (likely detached beforehand) to strike another foe? Priceless.

“Tch, shame about Xander.” He didn’t seem too upset. “However, I don’t think the half-breed wants to share.”

It was not a matter of sharing.

A ghastly aura cloaked the area, smothering the emanations of the Nobles and stilling the movements of an enraged Riedikke. And slowly, oh so slowly, D advanced, crimson blade glistening in the weak light of the street lamp. In his gaze, each opponent could see the promise of death.

Yet, Riedikke was not deterred long. At D’s beckoning finger, he leapt off the porch, drawing a sickle from his hip. Previously dark eyes spilled blood light as he wiped his nose against the long sleeve of his dirty shirt. The sickle twirled in his grasp. “Cutting through your _disgusting_ flesh should be easy as cutting through air.” Eyes manic and a too-wide grin contorting his face, the farmeresque Noble lunged. “And I’m going to enjoy every second of it!”

The shrill ring of weapons meeting.

‘ ** _This is our chance!_** ’

Krista leaned back and shoved against the smooth porch boards (as much as one could without the use of their hands), gasping with excitement as the man named Laun tumbled off her back. Head cracking against the doorframe. With her arms free, she scurried forward like a frantic feline.

She did not get far.

“Now, don’t fret, girl,” Laun huffed as he tugged her back into his possessive hold. “If your fear is a lack pleasure, rest assured it will be unfounded. At least, as long as you obey.”

She couldn’t pinpoint what it was, but something… snapped. A hiccup in her thoughts, so to speak. But after a few harsh jerks, she stilled. An unnatural calm settled about her. Small, yet full lips curved in an almost sultry smile. Previously green eyes shined an unsettling, vibrant cornflower blue.

With a quiet sigh, she leaned into his hold and fingered the smooth baton at her side. “Is… **that a promise?** ”

An almost silent click.

“One I am all too willing to keep,” he breathed, hands trailing up her belly.

A cool blade slipped through her loose grasp until it was free of its twin, and with practiced ease not normally possessed, she shimmied the hilt into her hand. “ **I look forward to it!** ” she suddenly guffawed, arm swinging back with enough force to run him through with the blade.

“Oh, dear. You think a stab to the stomach is going to bother me?”

For a moment, she panicked. Small hand trembling, grip tightening until her knuckles turned white. But that hiccup in her mind pushed and strained, urging her blade **_down_**.

**_Down._ **

**_Twist._ **

**_Down again._ **

She could barely hear the effeminate screams of Laun.

Couldn’t feel the resistance of bone or the off-colored blood splatter against her hand.

So focused on rending his flesh.

‘ ** _He’s trying to get away._** ’

A bloodthirsty grin lifted the corners of her lips. If he wanted away, then away he would go. Her teeth gleamed as she drove her heel into his knee.

The simultaneous snap of bone, crack of wood, and shuddering porch startled her from her ‘mission’. She whirled about, eyeing the man currently attempting to extricate himself from the splintered wood.

_Riedikke._

She heaved.

What about this man made her physically sick?

In lieu of dwelling on the matter, she scampered down the janky stairs and to the man in black. Bodies littered the ground she passed. Riddled with wooden needles. Puncture wounds. Missing limbs.

And blood.

Gods, the blood smelled rank.

Dark, thick, and coagulated; it tainted the air and choked the weak.

Krista. She was weak. A distressed moan crawled up her throat as she clutched at the man’s coat and gasped for breath. Some faces she thought she could recognize. A sick curiosity egged her to have a closer look, but another quiet heave quickly quelled that thought.

“Leave.”

“… What?”

For a breath, he did not answer, deftly deflecting a sword turned javelin. The look he cast over his shoulder was nothing short of stern and cold. The small woman was a danger to the both of them, huddled by his side like a frightened child. It was better for her to run. “Find a place to hide.”

The air shifted.

Faster than she could follow, D speared a Noble Krista had not seen beforehand with a crude needle, the Vampire digging at his neck in a desperate attempt to remove it. But there was no need. A weight settled upon him, the terror buried in his mind clawing to the surface as he stared down at the sword pressing into the crest of his Adam’s apple. Just a little more force and… oh no…

The sword was gone.

He stumbled back, hand wrapping about his throat. But what was the point in delaying the inevitable? ‘ _We deserve this._ ’

Krista watched in mute horror as the Vampire forcefully detached his own head, body lurching about like a drunkard. Blood painted the heavens and street. All was still as the body collapsed in a fit.

A chilled hand fisted the material of her shirt and cloak just above her breasts as the body continued to twitch. For a moment, she hoped he was simply leading her somewhere. Anywhere. She was, quite frankly, terrified and wanted nothing more than to curl up in a warm bed and pretend this was a nightmare. But as the muscles in his arm swelled and he braced himself, she found herself attempting to escape the only person she trusted. “ _Wait! What_ are you _thinking?!_ ” she screeched.

The Hunter did not respond, hurling her small body towards the neighboring street. He pivoted before she could land. The sound of her collision was not a comforting one, nor was it worrying.

Laun and Riedikke were gone. Their auras were fading into naught towards the manor, likely finding a retreat in their favor.

Only one Noble remained in the area.

Dark eyes narrowed upon the creature as it slid down the tiled roof, body angled to jump over the Hunter and track down Krista. But it was not an option. The tip of the sword skimmed over the cobblestones, blade crossing his body.

He leapt, body soaring through the air like a majestic bird. It was far too late for the Vampire to attempt a dodge. But attempt he did, a pained scream filling the night air as the curved sword bisected him.

D landed amongst the offal, curdled blood and viscera popping and squelching underfoot.

There had to be a reason behind all this nonsense. This carnage. A reason for these cretins wanting the girl, specifically.

His job became a bit more complicated, and he doubted this night would be the end of it.

“Hey, there’s the kid,” Hand suddenly murmured. “And boy, does she look ticked.”

The statement was a bit of an understatement.

She looked prepared to kill. Mutilate. And it was all directed at the stoic man in black.

For a singular second, this small girl looked truly fearsome, blade in her hand quivering with rage. “You just _threw_ me to the wolves!” she shouted, closing the distance between them. “I knew I couldn’t trust you. Especially now, now that I know you’re a filthy half-breed!”

She attacked, blade brandished and wholly indifferent to D’s ghastly aura as the winds churned around them. A growl left her as he evaded her comparatively lethargic lunge, but before she could do more, D was impaling her.

“Wasn’t that just a _tad_ extreme?” Hand enquired, watching the girl claw at the blade protruding from her chest as she gurgled and choked on blood.

But like dew under the summer sun, her body evaporated, only a crimson mist left in her wake.

“Phew!” Hand sighed. “Good thing you knew she was a fake, yeah?”

No response met the countenanced carbuncle’s exclamation.

“Wait! You knew she was a fake, right?!”

\---

Something was broken. She just knew it.

Okay, perhaps not. But Krista’s body cracked and popped like a bowl of rice cereal as she scampered down the neighboring alley, head throbbing and everything from her shoulders down aching something fierce. The gravel imbedded in her chewed up flesh did not help.

“He’s like a bloody bodybuilder, but without the freakish muscles!” she hissed, pausing long enough to secure her dagger with its mate. She was honestly surprised she’d managed to keep hold of it on her ‘trip’. And yet, the continued journey was short-lived.

Quick as a striking snake, an arm erupted from the darkness and snagged the fabric of her cloak. It wrenched with enough force to momentarily choke Krista into submission and she had no choice but to follow the downward pull.

The culprit? A woman no more than a few years her senior with champagne hair and round eyes the color of toasted grass. Her stout form filled Krista’s swimming vision before hoisting her to her feet and dragging her down another alley.

But Krista dug her heels into the ground and tugged free before too long, eyes narrowed at the woman. “What in the world are you doing?!” she snarled quietly as she loosened the cloak about her neck.

“You shouldn’t be out here!” the woman exclaimed just as softly. “It’s not safe!”

“And what were you doing out here?”

With a quick gesture to follow, the woman turned on her heel and started down the street. “I was attempting to gather some necessities and check on my family. I didn’t make it as far as I’d hoped before that horde of dead puppets swarmed the area. I suppose I am fortunate that they were more concerned with you and the Hunter after the sun set.”

It was a chilling thought that sent a spike of fear through Krista. But she followed the woman to a house, dark and unassuming, no less than a mile down the road and surrounded by equally vacant-looking houses. Inside, not far from the wood burning stove, the woman lifted a section of floor and she was ushered in.

The root cellar was understandably dark and humid, but pleasantly cool. Had D been in need, again, this would have made for a wonderful place to ‘plant’ him. And despite the circumstances and blood sullying her hands and clothes, Krista giggled and wheezed into her palms at the idea. Stony faced D, planted up to his waist like a wee sapling, a sprig of green sprouting from the top of his hat.

Lovingly referred to as Herbert.

Even though it would prefer to be called Bob.

She sank to her knees, gasping for air as tears trickled down her cheeks.

‘ ** _Finally snap, have ya?_** ’

Perhaps she had. But here she would remain, giggling and eyeing the produce stored in the room. Hoping D would be able to find her. Trying to pick off the flaking blood from her skin. Attempting to purge her mind of that man’s smile.

That _man’s smile_.

“You shouldn’t leave here for a while,” Krista suddenly murmured.

“Eh?”

“If, or when, I leave, you shouldn’t leave here. Just…” Her eyes clouded over, seeing her dream from a couple nights prior. Muddled details becoming clear. “Don’t leave.”

The woman seemed taken aback, but nodded nonetheless. “Alright.”

A leaden silence filled the cellar.

“When did things get so bad?”

“Pardon?”

Krista reiterated the query, cradling her face in her palms.

“Oh, well,” the woman started. “Not until a week ago.”

“Am I really the only bloody person who left for help?!”

“No… Some of us tried, but we couldn’t make it past the Hongares surrounding the area. Some were not as fortunate as I in escaping those beasts.”

Now she just felt like trash. “I know what you mean,” she breathed, hand grasping her bandaged side. “I barely made it through the first time. I would have died if D hadn’t been there this time. But, what about to the north? Or any direction other than south?”

The woman shook her head, eyes downcast. “They completely encircled the town about a month ago, and only grew more agitated. We haven’t had anyone come through until now.”

And here she was, cowering in a root cellar while the man in black… well, she figured he was most likely cleaving a bloody path through the town. As it was, she felt they didn’t have much time left. But there she remained.

‘ ** _You’re a coward._** ’

Perhaps.

‘ ** _You are._** ’

She was, at least for this moment.

The door to the house creaked open and shattered the silence. Krista’s fingers danced along the hilt of her blades as she found herself struggling to swallow her sudden terror.

In the same moment, the woman lurched across the cellar, readying a trenching shovel with a wickedly sharp point. Perhaps Krista need not worry herself with protecting this woman. If anything, she might need the protection.

Because there she remained.

Frozen in terror as the hatch rattled.

Would she be able to _kill_ one of those not-dead dead people? Normally debilitating wounds seemed to have no effect. Perhaps something more vital?

‘ ** _Decapitation. Watch their bloody heads roll!_** ’

Unbidden, her mind and the voice supplied a visual she’d rather forget. Eyes following the phantom head of the Nobel as he purposefully lifted it from his shoulders.

She could live the rest of her days with never seeing that, again. But it did have a point. Once that Nobel was down, he did not rise.

Focus returned to the hatch as it lifted. And she stifled a sob of relief when a familiar figure descended the steps. “D! Oh, thank God!” She skittered around the woman, fingers itching to worry the fabric of his coat. To reassure herself that he was indeed there. But she restrained herself. “I’m so glad you’re okay!”

He did not respond, eyeing the woman with the shovel still raised. “It is safe now.”

This seemed to put her at ease, head bowing with gratitude. “You have our thanks, Hunter.”

Without another word, he beckoned for Krista to follow, leading her out of the house. Down the street with nary a word between them. But a few blocks down the road, Krista quietly asked, “How’s Hand?”

He faltered mid-stride. “My hands are fine.”

“That’s not what I meant,” she laughed. “How are you holdin’ up, Hand?”

No answer met her query. Another stone settled in her belly as they ceased to walk.

“Did I… do something wrong?”

Her vision blurred about the edges as the man in black drew his sword, heart thundering and sputtering about in her chest. The screech the blade emitted raising the fine hairs on the nape of her neck. And a rolling growl left him, though it sounded much like a wanna-be chuckle.

The outline of his body wavered.

This man was not the man she’d acquainted herself with. Or if it was the same man, this had better be a cruel joke.

“Something wrong?” Even his voice was off. It left her feeling… well, the image that came to mind was a vat of maggots and liquefying cucumbers. That her body was submerged within. “Your existence is an affront to nature. You have no purpose. But we will grant you one, once more.”

She shuddered with disgust, but could not pretend to understand what he meant. Only understood one thing. “It’s hard to give purpose to something that is dead.”

“Who said anything about killing you?”

The sword seemed to cry for blood, and she was hard pressed not to point out the obvious answer.

“No. No, we just want you… incapacitated for a little while.”

Krista lurched back just as the blade cleaved through the space her neck occupied. Her eyes grew wide. Whether more from fear or astonishment, she couldn’t say. If she’d been just a hair slower…

A hand clasped about her throat, smearing the thin line of blood there. Her chest heaved, body suddenly desperate for air.

‘ ** _Oh, don’t start that, again._** ’

She didn’t, fingers slipping from her neck and tightening around one end of her club. As though it were a life line. And this man was Death incarnate, come to sever one such line as he lunged forward, sword aimed for her belly.

Did this man not understand the meaning of incapacitated? Unless her new purpose was to be fertilizer?

There wasn’t much time for supposing, however, as she scrambled just out of reach. Small fingers clawing at the cobblestone road for purchase. Slung bits of stone and dirt back at the advancing man. Heard him hiss in annoyance as said road bits pelted his face. And a part of her almost found the situation humorous.

By the time she got her feet under her, however, she was anything other than amused, heart continuing to pound out a panicked rhythm he was sure to hear as she continued to dance out of reach of the sword. With each strike, he grew closer. His attacks unrelenting. She was running on borrowed time, and she knew her luck would not persist.

But she had hoped it would for just a bit longer. Blade met cloth and flesh and cleaved them cleanly open, a flash of searing pain running from her knee to her ankle. Blood flowing in pulsing waves from the wound.

‘ ** _That can’t be good. You should stop the bleeding._** ’

“No screamin’ eagle shit!”

The man halted mid-lunge, taken aback by her sudden outburst, and she took the opportunity to strike. With the last bit of her energy, she surged forward, dagger unfastened and poised for the base of his throat.

Yes, surely this man was an imposter. The D she knew would have easily deflected her attack. Or dodged. Anything other than gape stupidly at her as her blade struck home. But she did not stop at that, shoving her meager weight into his body until they toppled to the ground.

The look that overcame the girl’s typically innocent features could have been considered chilling had anyone been around to witness it. Eyes gleaming an electrifying blue as she grinned too widely and wrenched the dagger back, prepared to attack the dying man, once more.

That’s not entirely correct.

The man had a perfect view of her murderous visage. Despite being in no immediate danger, it shook him to his core. As his form was dispelled, he could only marvel at how much she’d grown.

Krista watched perplexed as the imposter faded out of existence. If he could simply vanish, would he be able to come back? The very thought put her one edge. There was no way she could muster up the energy to fend off another one. And there was the matter of her leg.

Crimson blood continued to pulse from the wound, and her vision was dimming, world swimming as she cut strips of cloth from her cloak. And God help her, it was a pain she did not want to experience, again. Not when she was almost certainly seeing bone.

“Man,” she grunted, tightening down another strip. “I really liked these breeches.” Did she know any seamstresses? “Suppose I’ll just buy more when this is over.”

With the flow of her life slowed, she staggered to a stand, trying to ignore the spinning surroundings. And failing horrendously as she teeter-tottered about. Right into the armor-clad chest of a man she’d rather not see. She screeched, pain, anger, and terror clashing as she thrashed in the man’s hold.

Maybe she should give in? But there was no telling what they would do with her. What this new purpose entailed.

With renewed vigor, she lifted both feet and kicked, flopping to the ground like a beached whale as she broke loose. Honestly, she didn’t know where to go from there. The only conceivable choice (besides give up) was run. There was no chance in Hell she’d be able to dodge and fight. And with a leg that was more interested in flopping about, even running seemed improbable.

Maybe a small distraction was in order?

She was already standing by the time she decided she would follow her first plan. Who knew? Perhaps she could find another place to hide. In the meantime, her body quaked as she drew back the hand grasping her blade. She threw it directly at his face, turning to flee before she could see the outcome.

Perhaps if she’d bothered to notice that this man had yet to draw his blade? But there was no room for logic in her fear-clouded mind. One thing was certain, however. The weapon did not hit the ground.

No, there stood the Hunter, the _true_ Hunter, with the blade pinched between his index and middle fingers no less than an inch before his brow. He’d been in the process of tracking the girl when he’d smelled her blood. While its sweet scent was a welcome surprise and enough to arouse his hunger without bedding it down, it was concerning. So strongly did it flood the air, to the point it was cloying. He had almost feared she’d met her demise.

Just looking at the street would lead him to believe she came close. Based on her reaction to him, it would also be safe for him to assume she’d run into a situation similar to his. And it hadn’t gone well.

Hand seemed to come to the same conclusion. “You think she ran into a fake you? Or is she finally off her rocker?” Mostly the same conclusion.

But D need not respond as he eyed the silver-plated blade that toed the line between dagger and short sword. He strapped the weapon to his hip. Yes, this certainly was looking to be a long night.

\---

Krista lurched to a standstill in the road, leg throbbing and tingling. Perhaps she fastened the cloth strips too tight. However, as she hunched over and gasped for air, rubbing angrily at the tears marring her face, she couldn’t bring herself to care. Not until she felt it.

Yes, that little niggling nostalgia at the back of her mind. It cried for attention like a newborn babe as the seconds passed. “What is…” She whipped her head up, realizing that despite her advanced knowledge, she still ran headlong into her dream. And all her energy was expended. “Sh-shit!”

She hoped beyond hope that the woman had listened to her. Had stayed put in that bloody root cellar. Her heart pounded painfully in her chest. “Please, don’t have come here.” Grey eyes swiveled about to eye the street.

It was clear.

“Thank the gods.”

She spoke too soon. Out came the girl, looking rather suspicious and wary as she observed the area before attempting to move on. Krista yelled for her to run, hide, her voice cracking with emotion as she started towards her. But instead of heeding her warning, the woman stood there dumbstruck.

It was too late for Krista to be of use, however. From the darkness came the figure from her dream, same malicious smile revealing canines too sharp to be normal as he loomed behind the woman. And like a child, Krista covered her eyes, unwilling to watch her dream come to fruition. Shuddering as a startled scream pierced the air.

She could still save D.

With a surge of determination, she twisted around and… was still taken aback by the Hunter’s appearance. Her stomach twisted and churned, and she wept as the same lurid light from her dream coursed through his eyes. But despite her sudden fear, she reached for him, intending to drag him down or out of town. This would not end the same way as her dream!

It didn’t.

The Hunter whirled about, coat flaring with the sharp movement as he drew his blade and deflected the weapon aimed for his heart. Impaled the heart of the man behind the attack. But as he readied himself to deal with the other Noble creeping up behind Krista, an undead puppet crawled along the ground from the adjacent alley.

It wasn’t that he was unaware of the marionette, but as he drove his elbow into the handsy Noble’s face and pulled Krista from his grasp, there was no defending himself from the sword that buried itself to the hilt in his back. A rough shudder passed through him, and a splash of crimson painted the girl’s face. But still, he lurched forward, sword slicing through the flesh of the Noble’s neck as he attempted to extricate himself of the puppet’s blade and hold.

For an empty shell of a human, this thing had a death grip on him.

He sank to his knees, strength waning as the sword twisted about. Another tremor shook him. His brow furrowed. Seems that even with the knowledge of her dream, he could not avoid this. And Krista seemed even more unwilling to accept this. Slender fingers wrapped around the blade, her face twisted in anguish.

Yet, before she could push the blade out of his chest, another not-dead dead man waltzed up behind him. No, not just any Noble stood there. Riedikke, lips lifted in a cruel smile. He wrenched the sword out with an unnecessary flourish and kicked the puppet to one side. Yes, this certainly seemed to be a victory in their favor.

However, logic fled the crimson haired girl as she eyed the Hunter bleeding out at her feet. Eyes flashed wildly between the tired grey they’d become over the course of the night and electric blue. She could almost hear the voice hissing to kill him, maim him. _Make him wish he was **never born**_.

With her last dagger brandished in wounded and numbing hands, she leapt over D.

Or she would have had a pair of arms not encircled her waist and jerked her from the air. She screeched out her frustration. She thrashed. She bucked. She stabbed. Anything to break loose.

The creature at her back merely chuckled. As if each blow were a mere nuisance. “Good riddance, Dhampir. And quit your struggling, girl. It’s no use.” The dagger was pulled from her grasp.

It seemed that despite the characters playing different roles, some things would remain the same. Echoes of her dream. Mocking her for attempting to change the outcome. And she sobbed as she eyed the Hunter’s limp form, praying to any god that would listen that he would wake up, right as rain.

“It’s time to come home.”

She received at least one wish.

This did not end entirely the same.

\---

The sound of rushing wind disturbed the quiet night. The type of quiet that left one looking over their shoulder, seeing figures and demons where none resided. But this was closely followed by a loud belch. Hand quietly smacked his lips and muttered to himself as he slapped himself against D’s chest, emulating a friendly pat that came off as more of a halfhearted flailing gesture. Surely everything he’d gathered would suffice. The Hunter’s blood off the street. The meager flames flickering in the lamps. A good bit of road and earth beside them. It should work.

The man did not rouse.

He stretched up high enough to view the spot the wound once resided. It was, indeed, healed.

But still, he remained inert.

The hand groaned. “Okay, Sleeping Beauty! It’s time to wake up!” He slapped him across one cheek. “Your princess is in another castle!”

“Princess?” the Hunter suddenly murmured, sounding nearly amused to the creature.

“Well, more like an ‘it’. Not a hairy ‘it’, but an ‘it’.” A heavy silence fell about the pair as D rose to his feet and gathered his broad-brimmed hat and the blood-soaked dagger lying a few feet away. And the hand sighed. “I thought we were past this, D.”

D seemed to agree.

“But then, I can’t recall if we’ve ever dealt with a neurotoxin on top of a chewed-up heart.”

To this, he also agreed. A neurotoxin strong enough to combat his healing was nothing to laugh at. And considering the girl had hold of the blade when it was removed? He sincerely hoped the majority of it resided in his flesh. “Where is the girl?”

“Where do you think?” the arm gestured in a jerky fashion towards the manor at the edge of town. “Creepy bastards told her it was ‘time to come home’. And with the way they were eyeing her, I wouldn’t want to waste much more time.”

Too true.

He loosed a shrill whistle into the night air. Like the steadfast creature it was, the stalwart steed tore through town to the dark clothed traveler. Without pause, D mounted and they soared through the streets to the manor.

Marionettes and the stench of decay littered the path, lifeless faces (those that had faces) looking to the eastern sky. The thundering of the horse’s hooves roused some from their stupor, but most could not be bothered to take notice. Could not be bothered to avoid certain death. They fell beneath his blade faster than brush to a freshly sharpened sling blade.

But beyond the shells, there were no guardians of the estate. No defense systems.

Nothing.

“Well, doesn’t this just scream ‘easy’?” the creature in his hand remarked.

Inclined to agree, the Hunter launched himself at the wall of the enclosure. Fingers found purchase where most would normally find none, and with an ease and grace befitting this man, he scaled the obstacle and landed with nary a sound on the opposite side.

The courtyard was… varied, to say the least. But not grandiose. It had a smattering of pretty little roses bushes that sprawled along the raised beds, desert plants and flowers that were larger than feasible, and plethora of overly large succulents. It might have been a peaceful place to rest or read under different circumstances.

The inside was another story. Wood floors gleamed with the light of a fresh waxing. Portraits and numerous great works of art lined the walls. Coffee tables and sideboards topped with a black granite polished to perfection. The manor was a true sight to behold with its tall windows and winding staircase, the trims and handrails hand-carved with intricate and swirling designs.

But, of course, D was not here for the pretty sight, even if his hand did trail along the smooth rails.

"Up two or three floors,” said Hand. “Of all the places to hold ‘prisoners’, they chose upstairs.”

The Hunter ascended the stairs, unconcerned with the possibility of running into Nobles along the way. The building was mostly quiet. Any activity was further into or beneath the estate. But three floors up and down a couple of hallways lied a stretch of unassuming doors. The cloying scent of blood saturated the air here.

His hunger rose like a blood-starved beast, and perhaps it was. It wasn’t anything he couldn’t quell, though, as he stood before the door where the scent was thickest. While he couldn’t hear anything, he was sure this was the room she resided in. With a silence befitting the man, he turned the doorknob.

Locked.

Of course. Why would it be anything but?

Disregarding this, he continued rotating the knob until the mechanisms within were warped beyond repair. But still, the door did not open.

“Oh, just kick the damn thing down!”

The seal on the door broke loose with a loud clattering beneath the assault, and he had to wonder if the rooms were soundproofed. The ruckus that poured out afterwards was anything but freshly started.

There the girl hung, suspended a foot or so off the ground, flailing and screeching like a madwoman. One arm mostly free of her restraints, she bounced her meager weight on the remaining chain and desperately hoped it would snap like the other. But the damn thing remained firmly in place. Tried her patience and pain tolerance. Added to her anger and frustration.

Despite her wrist looking and feeling like someone made a half-assed attempt to cut off her hand, she continued to jerk about. She cursed anything and everything under the sun and spewed enough profanities to make the saltiest men blush. With her feet shackled, as well, there was no way for her to gain the leverage needed to finish the job.

“That turd! If I get my hands on him, I’m gonna rip off his head, shit on it, and throw it back at him!” Krista paused and clawed at her head. She wished she were still numb from the shoulders down so she didn’t have to feel the pain even that caused. “I don’t even poop, but I’m gonna do it!”

D observed her a moment longer, mildly amused by the strange threat, but also minding the blood-splattered floor and her tattered clothes. Part of him was impressed by her fire and respected her determination. But now, it was time to be done.

He reached up to still her thrashing, and her eyes opened at the touch. Where one might expect relief to overcome her, no such thing happened. Grey eyes narrowed in suspicion. Lips drew back over gleaming teeth in a ferocious snarl.

“I know D’s dead, so quit the crap and go away!”

With the little leeway afforded by her restraints, she lifted her feet enough to kick him back. It was then the last chain attached to her wrist decided to snap. And for the second time that night, she flopped to the ground like a beached whale.

Moaned like one, too.

“Kid,” Hand started as D inspected her shackles. “It’s us. We’re not dead.”

She was sold. The other D didn’t have Hand. If this D did, there was no other explanation. At the realization, tears fled her eyes. “Oh, thank the gods! I’m so glad! But… how?”

“We have our ways. Don’t you worry about it.”

The latches around her wrists and ankles fell loose as D pocketed his needle, clasping a hand about her upper arm and hefting her to her feet. She wobbled, and like any sane person, he pressed his opposite hand against her back to steady her.

It was like pouring salt on an open wound. She hissed and jerked away. Had it not been for the hand still gripping her arm, she would have toppled to the floor, once more.

The Hunter need not look to know what the problem was. Puckered and chewed up flesh, still weeping blood, had met his hand. But still, he tipped her forward to examine her back. Fingertips ghosted over the wounds. Only the skin covered by the straps of her armor was spared. “They flogged you.”

“Yeah… They did something, alright. Is it bad?”

“Familiar with ground meat?”

“Ew!”

“It’s not that bad.”

There was a long pause before she murmured, “That doesn’t really give me much confidence.” She also had to admit that she would have never expected such a ‘tease’ from the stoic man, but it seemed fitting. But as he turned her head this way and that, exposed her wrists and removed her tattered shirt, she was bemused. “Being inspected like a piece of meat isn’t helping.”

D halted his investigation, but only after checking her inner eyelids and fingernails. “Did they do anything else to you?”

She released an unladylike snort. “Besides string me up and whip me? Told me I needed to behave, but that’s about it. Kept staring at me like I was a piece of… y’know what? I’m tired of thinking about being meat. Did you have to start that?” A rough shudder passed through her.

It wasn’t entirely off the mark, though.

‘ ** _Maybe we are meat to them!_** ’

The man in black watched her shudder, once more, and list to one side. She was anemic. However, there wasn’t much he could do while they were here. At the very least, it didn’t seem to be the result of a ‘kiss’.

And speaking of kisses, he snapped his eyes down.

She was leaning in, lips softly puckered and eyes lidded as she braced herself against him. He stepped back. Hooking a hand about his neck and the other behind his shoulder, she followed. “Wait, don’t move,” she breathed and suddenly puffed her cheeks. She blew.

Without pause, she pulled back, her prize perched on her hand. A fuzzy jumping spider, no bigger than her thumb nail. “Oh, they’re so cute! I’m gonna call you Fluffy!” It seemed appreciative of her comments.

D watched the girl shimmy in place and fawn over the arachnid, body tense and lips drawn tight. Jaw working in mild agitation. While she was oblivious, the creature in his hand was not. It snickered softly. “Little tense, are we? Too bad she’s not a bit shapelier. Or competent.”

Hand did not protest the sudden closure of his mouth as D clenched his fist. In the creature’s defense, he wasn’t speaking at a volume where Krista could hear him. At this point, she was too busy lamenting the loss of her fuzzy friend (that she had to leave behind) and attempting to salvage her remaining clothes.

“Man!” she whined. “I just bought this cloak and lookit!” She tossed it to one side with a huff. “I mean, I know I cut a lot from the bottom, but at least it was still wearable! Did they have to shred it when they pulled it off me?! Why do that but let me keep my money? Why take mah boots?!”

Complaints continued to pour from her pale lips as she struggled to force her feet into the aforementioned boots, but the Hunter paid it no mind. For someone so removed from the happenings of this world, he would not deny her this release of stress and anger. But he should probably put an end to it soon.

The inhuman noise she was currently emitting would surely draw in any Nobles with enough sense to investigate, despite her attempt to muffle it by stuffing her face in her hands.

“Damn these not-dead dead people!”

\---

“A moment, Riedikke?”

The farmeresque Vampire that was draped across a lounge chair glanced up to eye the nameless man before him. Well, perhaps not nameless, but he was not invested in his life. “What?”

The fair skinned Noble pulled out a small device and depressed the nondescript button at its top with a soft pop. “Regarding your failure-”

“What _failure_?” he snarled, rising from his seat. He loomed over the man, teeth bared.

Any attempts to appear threatening, however, were lost on the nameless one. He started over, unperturbed, and clicked the button, again. “Regarding your failure, in both eliminating the Hunter and proving to be useful as a manipulator without losing your composure, the council has decided you are no longer an asset.”

Another click.

The estate rumbled. A terrifying mix of realization and fury appeared on Riedikke’s countenance. But the man continued. “As such, you have served your purpose and you are no longer required. All the captive citizens were released by the Hunter and the girl. All that remains is you.”

It didn’t take a genius to read between the lines. He’d been left for dead. “And what about the girl? Giving up on that?”

“In due time,” he responded.

“Change in plans, you mean.”

“Doesn’t matter. Your end comes.”

“It comes for us all, doesn’t it?” the farmer replied, turning with an amicable smile. There stood the Hunter and the girl. Despite the circumstances, he was excited. “Oh, kitten, how you’ve grown!”

For the third time that night, that little hiccup in her thoughts occurred. Just at the sight of this man. At his voice. Gods, why did she hate him so much?! Besides the flogging and his general attitude, what reason did she have to dislike him to the point of nausea?

Why did she want to **_rip the life from him._**

Their bodies were toppling to the floor before she realized she was moving, slender fingers digging into the flesh of his neck. Blood trickled out around her nails. Still, she continued to dig in, sitting astride his chest with his arms pinned by her legs. Forgotten was her fatigue and pain.

She would ensure **_his end._**

D approached the pair, studying the girl with blue eyes as she growled at the Noble beneath her. The other Noble had collapsed dead the moment they entered, bubbling brain matter trickling from his ears and nose. In such a state, there was no need to be concerned. But he stooped and grasped Krista’s shoulder, a silent order to cease her quest for blood.

But, Gods help her, he was **_still grinning like nothing is wrong!_**

“Kid, we get it,” Hand murmured. “But he needs to answer some questions before you kill him.”

The electrifying color drained partially from her eyes. Fingers loosened their hold but did not release him. “ **Ask.** ”

“What was your business here?” D enquired.

Riedikke loosed a breathy chuckle, eyes narrowing in disdain. “Nothing of _your_ business, you disgusting half-breed.” The girl above him jerked. Pain, sudden and startling, blackened his vision as he gagged on the teeth peppering the back of his throat.

“Damn!” Hand gave an appreciative whistle. “That couldn’t have felt good. So, let’s try, again. What’s hot in Puregon? Why so familiar with the girl?”

Looking Death in the eye, he still smiled, a haughty curve of the lips as he resituated himself. “She’s my little kitten! We were familiar with each other, once upon a time. Perhaps she will remember, some day.” He ran his tongue across bloodied gums. “Shame I didn’t get more of a taste, earlier.”

“Quite the freak, aren’t you? Still doesn’t answer our question.”

“I already told you it was none of your business!”

“She’s our client. It is.”

Riedikke laughed long and hard. “What the hell?! It’s not like I have anything to lose! Everything requires a blood sacrifice. Once we’ve met our quota, done our part, paid with our pound of flesh, _he_ will put all lesser beings in their place! Head to the Southern Continent and find out first hand!”

He eyed Krista. “And you, my little kitten. You will find your purpose and your home. Until then, have fun playing whore to this creature!”

There was that word, again. Whore. And that _thing_ in her mind practically convulsed as D lifted his hand from her shoulder. He was saying… something that would normally leave her feeling confused and, possibly, dirty. But she could only see red.

A bloodthirsty grin curved her lips. Blood gushed around her fingertips. “ **Good news! Your vacation request has just been expedited! We hope you enjoy the burning fires of Hell!** ”

Gurgling gasps filled the room as she clawed through the Noble’s neck. D did not interrupt, merely observing as chunks of flesh and blood splattered against the hardwood floor.

“D, whatever you do, try not to piss her off,” Hand suggested, eyeing the scene as Krista lurched to her feet.

While the Hunter would likely never view the girl as threat, the creature’s words were not without reason. This stubborn mule of a girl, so very innocent. And yet, look at the blood marring her pale skin. The wicked smile twisting her full lips. Eyes a startlingly vibrant cornflower blue glimmering with glee.

Against Hand’s better judgement, D chose that moment to return her blades. Despite her previously bloodthirsty mood, he highly doubted she would turn on him. In fact, the eyes that turned up to him were a pitifully dull green. The devious grin softening about the edges. Shoulders slumped with exhaustion.

“Thank you, D. I didn’t think I was getting these back,” she chuckled, a breathy sound that denoted just how tired she was as she ran a bloodied hand across her face. She grimaced. The blood was beginning to dry, leaving her skin with a tacky feeling. “I should probably clean up, huh? I wonder where the bathroom is here.”

The Hunter watched her wobble and stumble about out the door and down the hall, no doubt in search of running water, as he pressed the tip of his sword through Riedikke’s heart. Without a master to guide them, he was sure the puppets still scattered across the city would pose no threat. The Hongares were likely well on their way southward. Their business in Puregon was at its end.

All but…

“This night is probably gonna hit her soon, if it hasn’t already.”

The girl.

He had to agree. Far too innocent to have ever acted this way before. Following her crimson trail of bloody handprints plastered along the walls landed him in the kitchen. Perched on the counter with water running from the tap in the sink, Krista sat motionless.

No, that wasn’t entirely accurate.

Her body quivered, chest almost appearing to convulse as her stuttered breaths fought to turn into ugly, wrenching sobs. Whatever she became in that room and out on the streets, that bloodthirsty thing… Whatever that was, she sincerely hoped she never became it, again. To be swallowed by such a strong rage. Afterwards, it was a terrible feeling. Terrifying. **_Exhilarating!_**

She jerked, hands clawing at her head in a bid to silence that voice. That lilted tone that came unbidden and weaved its way through her thoughts.

‘ ** _You wanted him dead! And you wanted to kill that ‘Laun’ guy! You can’t deny that! Just think of what they did to Miss Haldwyn!_** ’ the voice excitedly breathed. ‘ ** _Didn’t they deserve it?!_** ’

They did deserve it!

But after what she just did, was she much better? What with that sick desire to go back in time and do it all over, again?

It groaned. ‘ ** _You’re bein’ impossible! Get over it!_** ’

Blood trickled down her forehead.

‘ ** _Pathetic. Pathetic and useless._** ’

“Just go the hell away!”

“If that is what you wish.”

The warmth of a hand stilling her own pulled away.

With a noise not suited for such a tiny woman and a loud clatter, Krista tumbled off the counter, arm outstretched before her. Wounds she’d momentarily forgotten burning and aching. She flailed, disoriented. At least the voice was quiet. “W-wait! I wasn’t talking to you! Why would you think I was?”

His left hand gestured at the room. “There is no one else here, kid. Besides…”

“I’m a Dhampir,” D finished as she stood. “We wouldn’t be surprised, all things considered.”

“All things considered?”

Oh, back to this, were they?

“You’ve had a taste of what the Nobility can accomplish. Of their true nature.” He stepped into her personal space. Watched as she leaned backwards over the countertop. “Of _my_ true nature.”

Grey eyes hardened with realization. She glared up at him. “ _You_ are not like _them_. And if the day comes where you are even _slightly_ like them, it’s gonna be for a reason.”

And there was her fire.

He stepped away. “What will you do now? Stay in the comforts of home and relative safety until they come for you, again?”

“Or head south for the winter?” A humorless laugh filled the air. “Not much of a decision. Besides, this place… it never was _home_. And the only person who could have made it _home_ can’t anymore. I think I will take my chances with you. Again. Some more.”

A silence settled around them. A comfortable one that she was unwilling to break as he turned and beckoned for her to follow. Once in the sitting room by the doors, he triggered a mechanism she wouldn’t have noticed alone. In trotted the cybernetic horse after a brief moment, snorting and stamping at the floor. From its saddlebags, he pulled the first aid kit that was seeing more use than any other kit previously in his possession.

He might need another if this trend continued.

“Sit.”

He need not tell her twice.

One grunt later and she was splayed across a large hassock. Despite the burning of her back, she was perfect comfy. It would take an act of war to have her move from her position. “I assume you want my leg first?”

The sensation of her leg being lifted and settled across his thighs was answer enough. He pulled loose the makeshift bindings, all but the one just above her knee. And while she couldn’t wholly feel him working, the slight tug on her leg let her know when he started stitching the wound.

Finally, he pulled the last one loose.

There was her act of war.

She hissed as life flooded her leg. Much like when your leg falls asleep, those pins and needles that start up. But worse. She snapped upwards to clutch the offended limb. “Good golly, Molly!”

“My name is not Molly.”

Golden tendrils of sunlight slowly flooded the room. Laughter, hearty and wheezy, followed.

“Where’s the stone-faced D I’m used to?!”


	4. Of Missed Opportunities and Sink Drains

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Welp... it's been almost 3 months. I apologize for the delay, but...
> 
> Shit happens, man! I moved. Got back in the groove of things. Started potty training my kid. Hit a block. Finally got my beta reader to go over this. So. Yeah.
> 
> Here's this mess. If it's a disappointment, let me know. If it's good, let me know. Fight scenes are hard. And to hell with similes that make sense, amirite?
> 
> You know the drill. I don't own D, Hand, or their world.  
> There will be blood.  
> If you don't like blood, you might have come to the wrong fandom.  
> Enjoy.

_ November 01, 13,012 _

She dreamed. Dreamed of simpler times. Of pale, winged demons and a knight in tarnished armor. Fields of flowers in bloom and fields of fire and corruption. Puppies eating rainbows and farting butterflies.

The horse was a magnificent place to rest. The gentle rocking and swaying, with her bare flesh kissed by the sun and pleasantly cool wind, it made for perfect napping conditions. Although, she couldn’t say she relished the nightmares. But so deep into the Tarnished Knight dream, she couldn’t say she remembered enough of anything to be bothered.

What did bother her?

The squeezes to her shoulder. She just wanted to sleep. For days, if possible. The disturbance was only serving to agitate her. It didn’t help the Knight was attempting to speak with her. Something undoubtedly important. Pertinent to their situation.

But like a pane of glass to a rock, her little world shattered about her as she dove face-first into the sand. Not of her own volition, of course. And not that the horse had come to a sudden stop like the first time. No, as she pushed herself up on trembling arms and shook her head, she could hear the Hunter tell his companion that something was uncalled for.

If she could just get her heart to quiet and her shaking to cease. Clear her confusion and listen past the rush of blood in her ears. And good golly did she ache. How in the world did D just jump up after being stabbed in the heart?

“Well, at least she’s up now,” the creature huffed. “Your way wasn’t getting us anywhere.”

‘ _Ah. Hand must’ve shoved me off._ ’ It was the only logical thing, considering the circumstances. Krista stretched a hand up and braced herself against the horse. Breaths puffed past her lips as she struggled up. Had she been this weak before?

By the time she was standing, she considered it a small miracle she didn’t immediately collapse. “Well… What’s up?” she panted, idly brushing the sand from her skin.

“Figured you might want new clothes to replace the ones you lost,” murmured D. His head tipped to one side, and he watched as she slowly looked in that direction. They were on the outskirts of another desert town, unsurprisingly walled off.

It took her a moment to respond, nodding gradually in agreement with his assumption. “Yeah… I would.”

While her back was covered in bandages, she couldn’t say she felt comfortable traipsing around half-naked. Pants looking like part of them got caught in a blender. And her boot. And the stitches. And more bandages.

She could probably be mistaken for a mummy at this point. Were mummies a thing? She understood they were a thing in the sense of people being mummified, but… If she had the energy, she might have started shaking him and asking if there were any more not-dead dead things she needed to know about.

Instead, she shook her head and started through the open gate. Walking was not any easier. She was sure that if she ever had the misfortune of swimming through molasses, this is what it would feel like. Gooier, but like each limb was weighted down.

“Let it be known… that I sincerely hope… I never feel like this, again,” the girl grumbled.

The Hunter observed her unsteady walk to the shop she desired, taking a moment to tether the horse at a trough as she shouted about the injustice that was the shop’s name. ‘Winter and Summer Attire’ but none for Spring and Autumn. Part of him considered her possible need for a blood transfusion. Another part felt that, in the end, she wouldn’t need one. She did not realize it yet, with all the aching, but her wounds were not healing at a Human pace.

Such as her broken leg. For many, walking around on it without much issue not even a week from the time it was broken? A week simply was not long enough for normal Humans. Not with as bad as it was. Not without outside help and treatment aside from a splint.

However, he set aside the thought as he stepped into the garish apparel store. Not just the clothing was obtrusively bright. The walls. The rugs. Thank God he couldn’t go blind from poor taste and design. He navigated the store until he located Krista in the men’s section, her head firmly planted on a shelf of folded breeches.

She started groaning.

Obnoxiously. Loudly.

Sinking to the floor like a gloopy blob.

Hand snickered. “What’s the matter, kid?”

With a soft sigh, she replied, “Nothing my size.”

“Try the junior section?”

“Mmhmm.”

“Women’s?”

“Yup.”

At this point, she was a goo pile. Garbage incarnate, in her own eyes. “I’m gonna have to wear a _sack_ with a _face hole!_ ” she cried.

And he watched as she slunk across the floor towards the simple cotton dresses, fully expecting her to acquire a few splinters along the way. Or trip up some unsuspecting fool who dared cross her path. After all, she was trash on a mission.

She snatched up a long-sleeved dress a disgusting shade of green, along with a hooded cloak similar to her last. By the time she was at the counter, her glower could have killed. The woman manning the register was lucky it didn’t. To be fair, Krista was trying (and failing horrendously) to smile appreciatively as she paid for the items.

Once outside, however, she merely scowled and fought with the article. “I know you’re probably wondering what my issue is with dresses!” she growled, voice muffled by the ugly dress as she wormed about inside it. “And I couldn’t tell you! I just hate them! Impractical drapes! Makin’ life hard!”

Her head finally burst from the top, crimson hair a wild mane. Eyes wide and angry. Almost daring anyone to utter a single word. And she slapped and jerked around the fabric, attempting to straighten the tucked and lumpy skirt. “There!”

The hunter watched her snap about on her heel. Should he tell her that the dress was still wadded up in the back?

“I wouldn’t,” Hand murmured.

He did.

The ensuing screeches of fury were worth it. Even if most of the town came out with guns at the ready.

\---

The sun seemed to race for the horizon at breakneck speeds, their travel broken only by short breaks for the horse and one intense pee break for the girl. Intense only because of how abrupt her demand to stop was. Then her fight with the folds of the dress. Her pants. Her armor. And panicked pleadings that he not look at her pitiful hiding spot a hundred yards away as she flailed about behind a bush that more closely resembled a mass of dead sticks.

The shredded breeches found a new home in a saddlebag.

But as she clambered into the saddle, muttering about feeling like a fluffed poodle, she settled down enough to ask, “How long do you think it will take to reach the Southern Continent?”

“Depends.”

“I know it _depends._ That why I said ‘think’!” she exclaimed, turning with a pout.

The endearing look was wholly ignored. “It depends upon the horse’s need for rest. Your needs. Nature. Without pushing the horse to exhaustion, I’d estimate at least 5 months.”

“…The world ain’t gonna end before that, is it?”

“Unlikely.”

Her eyes suddenly went wide, and she slapped at the air around his thigh. “What if we get lost and it takes us _years_ to get there?!”

“Not everyone is as directionally challenged as you.”

Lips parted and snapped shut just as quickly as she searched for words. She had nothing to say to that. It was true. But she did have to wonder what was with all the teasing. “It should be a crime to act so stoic and say some of the shit you do,” she finally grumbled. “But you sound really logical and smart anytime you talk. You mind me asking how old you are, D?”

“Why?”

“I don’t know. Thinking about it now… you only look a few years older than me. But…” She shoved her hands out before her, roughly outlining his shape. Then she acted like she was going to squish it, hands never quite meeting with each attempt. “You don’t feel like that. That make sense?”

“Well, kid,” Hand started. “Him being a Dhampir, he gets a lot of the perks that comes with the territory. He gets some of the negatives, too. But most Nobles don’t age. If they do, it is so slow that it takes many millennia for them to ‘grow old’.”

Her head snapped back, eyes alight with awe and curiosity. A wide smile curled her lips. “So, you _are_ old? Like, hundreds of years?!” At the slight quirk of his brow, she sputtered and gasped. “Thousands?!”

“Quite,” the Hunter replied.

“Wow! You’re an old fart!”

Rude.

“Sorry, that was rude.”

It was.

"But, it’s true.”

Rude, again, girl.

She laughed, eyes a beautiful mix of their typical acidic green and the tired grey he’d come to associate with poor health. They twinkled with mischief as she gazed back at him. Once she felt a bit better, she knew of a sure way to get a rise out of him. Or, as much of one as you might expect of the stoic Hunter.

The setting sun, as entrancing as it was with its wild mix of golds and reds and violets, was not enough to deter the sudden wave of drowsiness. Against her will, her head tipped forward.

The world faded to black.

\---

“Explain why the Hongares almost killed the girl,” a soft voice demanded. It was the type of tone that was deceptively sweet. The listener found himself shuddering.

“To be fair, they wouldn’t have-”

“And yet, if not for that accursed Dhampir, she would be dead!” the woman bellowed.

There was a leaden silence in the room. “The one that attacked her was a pup. It didn’t know. It was hungry and she was there. Besides, by the time the thralls were on her trail, they received word that the Hunter was contracted out and already had her.”

The light patter of bare feet. When she spoke, her voice was deadly. “So, you mean to tell me… The thralls were tracking her before the half-breed ever stepped into the picture, but still could not get to her before him?”

“The towns would chase her off before they could get to her.”

She scoffed. “Sounds like someone might be working against us. Well, the night wasn’t a complete failure. That piece of trash they called Riedikke spilled his guts. She’ll come right to us. That just means more time to prepare.

“While we wait, however, I want you to find someone to dispatch the mongrels. I don’t want them causing any problems here.”

\---

It had been two days since they left Puregon. Two days! And she’d swear it’d only been twenty. Their little stop for clothes the prior day seemed so far away. Krista stretched and snapped and popped, struggling to work loose the kinks in her back. While their trip thus far had been interrupted by intermittent breaks for the horse, she hadn’t had time to really do so.

But then, it’s hard finding time to stretch when you are sleeping for the majority of the traveling. If anything exciting happened, she’d been oblivious to it. She barely recalled D pushing water at her and tending to her bandages. And the few times she had awoken of her own accord had been for barely a few minutes.

And here she was, about to sleep some more. While she knew she’d lost a fair bit of blood, she couldn’t imagine that it was entire the cause of her exhaustion. Perhaps it was. Either way, she crumpled to the ground, cradling her head in her arms.

“D? Are we staying here for the night?”

“We are,” came his murmured reply. “Still tired?”

“Mmhmm.” Maybe she could sleep it out not on the horse? Stretched out and almost at ‘perfect comfy’ levels. “Am I gonna die?”

“Someday.”

“But probably not today?” Her eyes were closed, mind beginning to drift. She could still hear him unsaddling the horse, but it was such a soft noise. Calming. She almost wished he talked more.

“Why?” The Hunter seated himself not far from the girl, propped against the saddle and watching as she jerked at his soft enquiry. She must have been dozing. Part of him wondered if she even realized she’d said anything.

“Why?”

She didn’t.

“Oh… I said that out loud, huh.”

Slowly, she twisted to face him, eyes lidded and glazed. “You just have… a really nice voice. I bet you’d… sing good, too.” Her eyes fell closed. “Like a… fudgin’… turtle…”

She was asleep.

The Hunter stared at her a moment, almost at a loss for words. However, his hand shook with barely contained laughter. “You’d sound like a fudgin’ turtle!” The countenanced carbuncle continued to chortle and wheeze. D wasn’t so sure it was that humorous. “Oh God! I might die!”

“One could hope.”

The quiet quip only served to pull more gasping laughs from the creature.

_ November 03, 13,012 _

Warmth.

Sweet Mother of all that is good, she’d officially reached perfect comfy. Once again, it might take an act of war to rouse her. Truly, she didn’t think that any bed had ever made her feel so comfortable in her life.

Despite her half-lucid state, however, the soft thump beneath her hand did not go unnoticed.

How queer. She couldn’t recall the earth whumping before.

_Ba-bum_

Something was definitely whumping about. She wished she could play it off as sleep deprivation. With all the sleep she’d gotten over the past couple of days, however, it would have been a blatant lie. She supposed, as another beat made her fingers tremble, that this was her ‘act of war’. But if she had to guess, it sounded much like a heartbeat.

A very slow one.

Her eyelids fluttered, vision blurred by sleep.

Wait… were her eyes open?

She would swear they were, but she could not see. Jabbed herself in the eye attempting to even catch a glimpse of her hand.

“Smooth move, kid.”

She screeched with fright.

Or she would have if not for the hand clamped down over her mouth.

Hand.

But if he was close enough to clasp himself over her face in this manner, curled around the back of her head, that could only mean…

Her internal panicked screeching intensified.

However, through it all, that voice leaked through. ‘ ** _It’d be pretty funny if it turned out you tried to make a move on him._** ’

What did that even mean?

The voice sighed, clearly dejected by her lack of understanding. ‘ ** _Never mind. Should’ve guess you wouldn’t’ve known what I’m talkin’ about._** ’

It didn’t matter. All that did matter was her current pillow. The man whose heartbeat was too soft and slow to be normal. And yet, despite the slight chill he possessed, he currently served as her personal space heater.

But maybe, just maybe, if she could inch herself out of his hold…

She shifted, preparing to rise as Hand released her face. Fingers digging into the hard sand beneath her. She held her breath.

“I’m not asleep.”

Cheeks aflame, Krista flailed. “ _Noooooooooooo!_ ” she wailed. “You _are! Sleep!_ ” Slender hands pushed off his chest no less than three times, as if she were attempting to convince him he should be resting. After all, she’d been nothing but quiet.

There was no reason for him to be awake!

She skittered back in the dark, promptly tripping over… something. If only she could see!

As she spewed sand from her mouth, the Hunter illuminated the area with his lantern. She almost wished he hadn’t. It was so bright! But, now that she could see, she could clearly see there was… nothing there.

“You mean to tell me I tripped over nothing?” she hissed.

Indeed. That little divot in the sand did seem to mock her. Not that it was alive.

“So!” the girl suddenly exclaimed. Her lips curled upward in a cringe-worthy smile, face burning with embarrassment. “Why was I attached to you like a little… little… thingy?”

D’s reply was succinct. “You moved in your sleep.”

‘ ** _So, you_ did _try to make a move on him!_** ’

Cackling laughter bounced about the walls of her brain. She couldn’t say she found it amusing. Only mortifying. “Wow. I am so sorry.”

He watched as she pulled her hood up, ducking her face down to hide as she shrank into the fabric. As though the cloak could hide and disperse her shame. But one lone finger pointed accusingly at him from within the folds.

“To be fair, though, you do make a great pillow and heater.”

The girl must not have much of a brain-to-mouth filter. Not that it bothered him. He merely set about rousing the horse, tending to it in a fashion he’d not had many chances to. Brushing what hair the creature possessed. Ensuring all the parts were functioning properly. And of course, he provided sustenance.

Krista twisted to her feet and moaned contently as D finished. Embarrassment forgotten, she felt fit as a fiddle. Prepared to run laps! Eat a whole horse!

The horse snorted, as if aware of her thoughts.

Perhaps not.

But as D kneeled and packed the gear and grooming tools, she rooted around in the bags for her crackers and remaining apple. Aside from a browning soft spot, the apple was still crisp and tart. The crackers a perfect salty. Although, one might question how she managed to taste anything with how fast she was devouring the food. Faster than the first night D witnessed her eat.

Halfway through, he watched her shudder and toss the remaining bit at the horse, slowly closing the tin of crackers. If he were honest, she looked ready to blow. And while vomit didn’t bother him, he could say he did not want to be the one to clean it off the steed munching on the remaining fruit. He doubted the creature would have appreciated it, as well. Especially not when the horse seemed so proud of his glossy mane and gleaming metal plates.

Just as quickly as it’d come, it was gone. Lips curled in a sheepish smile. “I feel better now.”

“You sure about that, kid?” prodded Hand.

“Yup!” Her hand flapped in a hurried, dismissive manner. “Totally was not about to puke all over the horse!”

The horse snapped its head up with a startled whinny, looking – dare he say – disgustedly at her.

She stared back. “What?!”

D watched as the magnificent creature stood and trotted out of her range, eyeing her the entire time. But unperturbed, she came to him next, eyes alight with mirth. Those unnaturally vivid green eyes, glimmering in the light of the lantern.

At least he knew she was feeling better.

“Have you eaten?”

Had he?

“No.”

The morning before their arrival in Puregon, he’d considered his options as he washed up in the waters by their ‘camp’. Ultimately, he’d felt no need to.

“You should.”

The Hunter could agree with that. But he watched as she inched closer, body quivering with energy. If he had to guess, she was up to no good. Her slender fingers curled, thumbs rubbing against the crooked index fingers. Much like she was preparing to snatch something up.

“You’re not gonna eat, are you?”

At his soft no, she lurched off towards one side, appearing to head for the horse sitting just behind him. Instead, she tottered about before leaping over his head. Honestly, he might have been impressed with her maneuver if not for two things.

One: she took his hat.

Two: her attempt at a graceful landing was pathetic, at best. Although, it probably did not help that the Hunter had driven the heel of his palm into her left shin as she went, knocking her off balance and off course.

Undeterred and with a triumphant shout, she snapped her arms up, prize clutched by trembling digits as she wormed her way to her feet. A quick glance back told her the man was rising, body turned to pursue her and brow furrowed.

Under normal circumstances, she wouldn’t have noticed. It was such a slight thing. But now, she squealed with delight and took off like a bolt. This look was nothing like the one she’d received after jabbing him. And she doubted that she’d even view that look in the same light… had she known him at the time.

While she doubted it would help, she started zipping from side to side, a sweeping zig-zag pattern through the sands. Pushing her legs to their limit. Anything to keep ahead of him. She was sure she was failing, struggling and gasping for breath.

Her giggling was not helping.

A voice, soft and lilted, cut through the laughs. ‘ ** _Jump._** ’

She did, watching a figure cloaked in black soar beneath her. With an acrobatic tumble, he leapt to his feet and pivoted. Too late did she realize what happened. The cunning Hunter used her momentum against her, and she could do nothing to stop herself from stumbling into his hold.

No, she didn’t even have a chance to stumble across the ground. She didn’t even finish falling. Just slammed into him mid-descent.

“Damn!” she panted, slapping his beloved hat onto his head. “That was fun! I know you could’ve caught me sooner! Thanks for that.”

He might have let her carry on a bit longer, too.

A mournful howl cut through the night air.

Another.

And another.

He might have, if not for that.

“You didn’t catch me just for shits and giggles, did you?” Krista whispered, voice trembling. But she didn’t need a response. She could see it in his eyes. And if not there, watching his hand grip the hilt of his sword was answer enough.

Dark eyes peered through the heavy darkness. This man was not hindered by the lack of light like the girl in his arms. He, seeing as though it were day, faultlessly tracked the three wolfesque creatures tearing across the sands. Spreading out their formation as they prepared to flank the two travelers. Or go after the horse.

Heaven forbid a bit of metal keep them from a meal.

However, it was a tad strange for shifters to be this far removed from civilization. Perhaps they’d meant it that way. As they circled, however, he couldn’t find it in himself to do more than pity them. As it stood, they were a danger to the girl. Aggressive despite the increasingly choking aura surrounding the man in black.

He would release them from this existence.

“Hold on and don’t move,” he ordered.

While having her attached to him might hinder his movement speed, he was optimistic. And honestly, she was so very light. If she did slow him down, it wouldn’t be from weight. Merely the bulk of her as a whole. And past that, she was so slight of frame.

He pressed his left hand against the small of her back as she complied to his demand. Practically squishing her as she wrapped arms and legs alike about his torso. If she was uncomfortable, at least she was understanding that this was not the time to complain.

There was a moment of calm quiet.

The nearest creature lunged, snarling and chomping at air as the Hunter danced across the sands. Quick to evade the one at his back with another graceful twist of his body and fancy footwork. He leapt, sword lashing out with inhuman precision.

He would take nothing but the finest cut of meat from the finest specimen.

Alright.

The meat from these creatures would be stringy, at best. They appeared to be malnourished, hides stretched across warped bones and ribs one firm elbow jab away from bursting through the skin. And as two desperately chewed upon the flesh he carved from one, he knew they must have attempted to remove themselves from society.

Remove temptation.

Shame that not all shifters could ignore or combat their instincts. Live in harmony with that beast residing just beneath all that was sane. Especially if they were a breed that suffered through cycles of some sort.

And guided by that beastly hunger, the hunk of flesh was devoured in a matter of seconds while the wounded shifter attempted to flee. He gasped and gurgled, frothing at the mouth as he choked on blood. Limbs trembling with each strained step.

“D, please put them out of their misery!” Krista whimpered.

But it was too late for the poor creature. The others descended upon him, jagged teeth easily stripping the meat from his bones. Screeches and gurgling wails filled the night air. The girl in his grasp desperately wished she weren’t, wanting to cover her ears but settling with pressing her face firmly against D’s sternum.

She could barely feel him shift, his hand pulling her just a bit more firmly against him before he was racing off to one side. Past his coat, she could see more of the creatures. Clawed paws tearing across the hard sand. Snarling maws open wide. And here she was, hiding like a babe in this man’s embrace as he lunged and bisected the nearest one.

Unlike with the first one, the pack did not swarm their fallen comrade. The group of shifters circled the travelers, but D did not seem concerned (the same could not be said for Krista). He was not concerned when the circle surrounding them shrank. Not even when a few more joined the pack.

Instead, he stood tall and tightened his grip upon the hilt of his sword. Dark eyes narrowed. He did not wait for the creatures no less than six feet tall on all fours to charge. In a motion blurred by speed, he collided with the shifter at his front. Its ribs collapsed with a sickening crunch beneath his heel, but that wasn’t enough. Its wailing was cut short as D wedged his blade between the twisted bones.

In the same instant, he slung himself and the girl over the dying beast, blade striking the next like the wrath of God. Perhaps, in another life, they could have had a friendlier meeting. A learning experience, even, for Krista. Because, admittedly, this was not the best way to introduce her to the existence of shifters. Not when he was flipping through the air with her clinging to him like a baby koala and the one beneath them was bellowing and screeching in anguish.

Their landing was not one of his most graceful ones, coat snagged by a set of canines aiming for his legs. But it served the same purpose. With a forceful toss of its head, the duo was slammed into the ground. And with a yelp of terror, Krista was dislodged from him.

She disappeared beneath the sand.

At least she was safe, for a moment.

He twisted and rolled, leg snapping up. The maw of the beast bearing down upon him went slack, shoved to one side, tongue lolling about. Without pause, he continued the motion, arm out and head cocked away from it, until he was on his knees.

Maybe keeping his hat throughout this entire ordeal should be considered a small miracle.

The sword in his hand buried itself in the creature’s agape mouth. The others were intent on finding Krista, large paws tearing up the ground. And they did, excited and piercing yips filling the air as one pulled her small body from the sand by a slender leg.

By the time she was screaming obscenities and using the creature as a pin cushion, D was upon it, heel wedged against its bottom teeth and fingers curled around the snout. He kicked and wrenched. With a snap, the girl fell loose.

It seemed there was quite a bit of bone breaking going on this night. But it was effective for at least a few moments.

The beast beneath him collapsed as the remaining six turned their sights on him. Realization crept into their animalistic gaze, softening the eyes hardened by instincts. But for the majority, it did not last. All but one. And that one merely curled in upon itself and loosed a pitiful whine.

D did not bother to scoop up Krista like a babe, assured in their anger directed at him that she would be fine. He cast her a quick look, watching as she pressed a wad of her ugly dress against the gouges in her leg.

Well…

As fine as she could be.

Within the folds of his coat, he pulled five long, wooden needles.

“How considerate,” he heard Krista begin to mutter. “Toothpicks to pick our flesh from between their teeth.”

Silly girl. But her giggling did not distract him from his current objective. Each needle found its mark, burying themselves deep within the furred flesh. The creatures yowled and thrashed, attempting to paw loose the splinters from Hell. Before they could, D drove his sword through the first one and retreated before its blood could dirty him.

Despite her snide remarks, Krista was genuinely in awe of D’s fighting prowess. His display of strength. Speed. “Amazing,” she gasped, watching as the creatures fell beneath his blade. And for a moment, she wondered if she would ever be able to match him. Or maybe it was more of a Dhampir thing?

Either way, there she sat, pressing her ugly dress against her wound.

Making it – dare she say – uglier.

And Gods help her. She was liable to die from all this bleeding.

However, instead of focusing on her possible demise, she turned her attention to the Hunter executing acrobatic leaps and tumbles. Feats of agility she would surely fail at if she ever attempted them. And he was doing so well, striking with his blade as he flitted out of reach of another creature.

But she knew she was a liability. He was drawing attention away from her, putting himself more at risk.

She scoffed.

_At risk._

How at risk could one be when one could take a stab to the heart and pop back up like a bloody daisy?

This fact did not stop her heart from lurching with fear as one of the creatures sank its razorlike teeth into the fearsome man’s right shoulder and upper arm. And with his blood dripping from its maw, he twisted the opposite arm around and placed the beast in the most awkward chokehold she’d ever seen. But it was working.

Perhaps chokehold wasn’t quite the term she should use. She could hear the collapse of bones and trachea alike.

‘ ** _Well, he is technically chokin’ them._** ’

“… I suppose he is…”

“Talkin’ to yourself, again, kid?”

She squeaked and jerked, not expecting the Hunter to be literal inches from her wounded leg. “Eh…” Deflect! “You killed them all?”

“All but the one.”

Dimming eyes snapped about, and she found that there really was only one left. The one that had yet to move from its place on the ground, still whimpering. “I really zoned out, huh. You think he’s okay?”

The man did not have to look at the creature to know, using the time to lift her in his arms and head for the horse. “If anything, he is waiting for death.”

“That is really sad.”

“It’s life.”

“Wanting to die or just dying as a general?” she grumbled. “Because one shouldn’t be part of life.”

He was going to respond, but he could hear the sullen beast dragging itself to its paws. While no malicious intent clouded its aura, he was cautious. Krista seemed none the wiser as she began wiggling with excitement.

“I can’t remember if I said it or not, but you’re amazing!”

Seems the shock of the early morning was wearing off.

“I mean, if I tried to do half what you do, I would have been minced meat! But you were just… _extraordinary!_ ” the girl gushed. “The way you flipped and tumbled and dodged! With me _attached_ to you like a big ol’ baby! How do you do half the shit you do?!”

The beast was creeping close. They were nearly to the horse and lantern.

Krista’s voice grew conspiratorial. “Could you rip limps off of people or creatures? Kill them before they even know they’re dead?” Realization. “Wait, I kinda already saw you do that.”

Closer, yet closer.

And there was the shift in the air the Hunter had been waiting for.

Teeth once more sank into the flesh of his right shoulder, but not before he’d drawn his blade with his left hand. Which left the girl to flop against the ground.

Perhaps, if she’d paid more attention and had known she’d be in the splash zone, she would have snapped her mouth closed before she ended up with a taste of the man’s blood, his life essence splattering against her face. But how was she to know the beast would continue chewing upon his shoulder? Being impaled appeared to make no difference.

And as D wrestled the beast to the ground in an impressive show of strength, she found herself choking. Sputtering. Attempting to leave the situation as she struggled for breath, no longer paying her shredded, bleeding leg any mind. Had she swallowed some?

She clawed at her neck.

Why did her throat burn?!

That voice, somehow coming across whiskey-soaked now, but still soft and lilting, cut through her panic. ‘ ** _Claw at your neck much harder and you’ll be lookin’ like that Riedikke guy._** ’

The voice wasn’t wrong. She could feel her skin tearing beneath her nails, but…

Gods, it was so painful!

It laughed, hearty chuckles reverberating about her brain. Seeming so at ease, she had to wonder if it was at all affected by the pain. ‘ ** _Oh, it hurts, alright! But I’m more concerned with how it_ tasted _!_** ’

Tasted?

_Tasted._

It seemed to hit her then. A strong, heady flavor that coated her tongue and left her wanting more. If she could, she might liken it to a port wine. Without the bitter aftertaste that could come with alcoholic drinks.

‘ ** _See?! Ain’t that nice?_** ’

It was, but she stubbornly refused to answer the voice. Teeth clenched tight against the burn making a return as she sagged and fell to her knees.

A fog settled about her mind.

She felt strange.

And she was being swallowed whole by this feeling. Delving into a place where blood boiled and the wind howled. Disheartening darkness and raspy noises that left her skin cold and crawling. And the whispers.

‘ _The hell is wrong with me?_ ’

A bloodied claw came into view, aimed to grasp her throat. It had to be one of the beasts.

She reached up and batted at the limb, scrambling away. But it did not relent, easily restraining her flailing hands as it perched upon her and dove for her neck. And she did the only thing possible at that moment.

The red-haired girl bit down.

Blood flooded her mouth and dripped down her chin. She expected something rank. Something… _not this good_.

The fog cleared just the tiniest bit.

D.

‘ _Shit._ ’

But despite having the girl attached at the wrist, the Hunter was unperturbed. He merely observed as her clouded eyes cleared. She looked downright mortified, swallowing thickly as she pulled her teeth from his flesh. But he didn’t miss the mildly rough passing of her tongue across the abused flesh.

“Sorry,” Krista rasped, flinching. Her throat was raw and she had to wonder if she’d been the one howling. “Don’t know why I licked you like it’d make up for me bitin’ you. ‘s not creepy. Not at all.”

The Hunter merely hummed in response, hauling her to her feet and guiding her across the remaining distance to the horse, fingers clasped over her throat. He was… concerned was as close as he could come to describing the feeling swirling in his gut.

The initial sputtering that came from accidentally ingesting his blood? That he had expected. Perhaps the clawing, as well.

The screeching? The obvious hallucinations she was experiencing? It was something he’d not entirely expected.

Even now, she was slumping over like soggy bread, dulled eyes fluttering shut as she was sucked into a world that left her gasping in terror. But it didn’t start until she’d…

He drew short of the horse but in range of the lantern’s light. Unclasped his bloodied hand from about her throat. 

“Did she just soak up your blood?!”

Hand’s timing was impeccable. And not without merit.

Indeed. All the crimson fluid dripping down his wrist to his hand never made it past her open wound. Even now, he could see the last bit seep into the torn flesh. Like a drain in a sink. Or rain to parched ground.

One question burned on the tip of his tongue.

“What are you?”

Eyes an unnaturally vibrant shade of cornflower blue opened. And she scoffed.

Not even the coming of dawn could take away from the disgust displayed in her gaze.


	5. That Which We Forgot

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Happy Christmas! Or Happy Belated Hanukkah! Or Happy Kwanzaa!
> 
> I know it's been a bit. And I figured I might just update for the holidays.
> 
> I thank whoever keeps coming back. Or those just coming in. I wish you guys would tell me how I'm doing, but... I guess I will have to be content to see the hit count go up. But I am thankful for the bookmarks and the few comments/kudos I have!
> 
> Not gonna lie. I am technically not done with this chapter. But I know that if 43 pages seems long in page form, it's gonna seem even longer on the computer or on the phone. So I cut it off in a place that is about half-way and... sounds like an end. Make sense? Hopefully it won't be too long before I get the rest up.
> 
> I think I got all the mistakes. But I'm only Human. Enjoy?
> 
> Also, Warning? Touchy stuff here. Graphic. Gore. Implied Rape. Typical Vampire Hunter D malarkey. Tread lightly?

_ November 03, 13,012 _

She was dreaming, again. The knight in tarnished armor was there. The pale, winged demon, too, with a face eerily similar to the Hunter, but altogether different. Dressed in armor black as pitch that tainted the air and sucked the life from the plants at its feet.

No, there were no flowers this time.

Fields aflame spread their taint.

Skies aflame.

Yet somehow, just as dark as the dripping armor encasing the demon.

She was swept away in a flood of… was it water?

_Blood_.

She was choking on it. Lungs crying for air but receiving only the clabbered substance. An ocean, filled with stolen life. And the demon was its source. Floating in the near-endless expanse of vermillion liquid.

And she was still drowning, clawing for what she was sure was up. Surely, that light must be the sun.

The moon?

The fires?

She didn’t care. So long as she reached it soon.

But fingers struck glass.

Turned to sludge and collapsed with the force.

Flesh blackening and sloughing off abnormally pliant bone like clay beneath a child’s hands.

And the painfully strong blood absorbed it.

Consumed it.

Phantom fingers clawing.

Tearing.

Devouring.

Left leg.

Left eye.

Panic gripped a failing heart.

Suddenly, she was falling through heavy clouds of smoke. Burning. Choking on fire and almost wishing it was the blood. If for no other reason than to soothe the burn. But something glimmered through the soot surrounding her. A shining beacon, so to speak.

The Tarnished Knight.

He stood tall, feet planted firmly on the ash hanging in the air, armored and adorned head angled down. If she had to guess, he was glaring daggers at the demon beneath the crimson glass. But she didn’t have time to ruminate the possibilities. Her fall was coming to an end.

The ocean rushing to meet her.

If she broke through the heaving glass, would that demon escape? Would he devour her? Rend her flesh and pluck her soul from the tattered remains of a doll well-used?

The flutter of wings.

\---

The Hunter stared at the girl in his arms. Glazed, bright blue eyes stared back.

They didn’t just stare. They narrowed in agitation and she seemed to be studying the air surrounding him. His aura. She clucked her tongue in distaste. “ **The Prince wishes to know, but the Prince can’t know what isn’t known. Maybe not a Prince. A success? Where does that leave me? An affront to nature. A… not Human? Super Human? Not super. Not…** ”

She trailed off, eyes unfocused and breath harsh. Body rigid. If it weren’t for Hand’s quiet quip, he might’ve been standing there, mouth agape, shocked into a momentary lapse of character. This was not what he expected when he first saw their blood mix and sink back into her wound.

Not that he’d expected that.

She suddenly went limp, jolting in his hold as he lowered them to the ground. “ **I’m forgettin’, again. Was I even rememberin’? No. Jus’ sinkin’. Burnin’. Drownin’. Wings o’… starched lace?** ” Her face scrunched up. “ **I’m… forgettin’, again. Was I even rememberin’? No. Jus’… sinkin’.** ”

There didn’t seem to be many dull moments with this girl around. But the entire situation expounded on the idea that she was, indeed, not Human. Even if she was, it was only in part. However, now was not the time to unravel this mystery. He needed to tend to her wounds and –

“We need to get the hell outta Dodge before our friends draw in more!”

Again, impeccable timing, Hand.

But as he drew back, he realized there was no need to fetch the bandages. If not for the blood smeared across her pale flesh, one would never guess she’d been wounded. They might even deduce that it wasn’t hers. And without looking, he could hazard a guess that her leg was likely healed, as well.

Far off in the twilight, he heard a howl.

If these were cycle-bound shifters, there wasn’t much worry. But if they were being drawn in by the carnage, it was likely others would come calling.

Leaving the girl there, D flew through the motions of saddling the antsy steed and securing the lantern. Stuffing her dress into a saddle bag and all but slinging Krista on as he mounted. It wasn’t that he wouldn’t be able to handle the threats coming their way, but…

His dark eyes flickered to the strange girl bouncing limply about as the horse galloped across the sands. He wasn’t about to put her danger-prone self needlessly in the path of more danger. And thus, they flew like a bat out of Hell.

By midday, Krista was flailing and squawking, a slew of curses and disoriented babbling bubbling past her lips. But she couldn’t really help herself, not with the sun decidedly trying to bake her and her mind telling her that she was back in that fiery field, burning alive and wishing she could be swept away with the flood of blood.

Blood that was strong, heady. Filled with spice and vim and vigor.

Something within her craved another taste.

_Begged_ for it.

She didn’t realize the Hunter had halted the horse and dismounted until she realized she was reaching for empty air. Quivering fingers outstretched for the spot D once resided. And there she sat, frozen, before abashedly slapping the extended hand across her face. Rubbing hard and moaning. Head throbbing.

Had she been reaching for the Hunter’s arm? Intending to get that second taste? Or was it third?

‘ _Bloody Hell. What’s wrong with me?_ ’ She smacked lightly, tongue feeling dry and foreign in her mouth. Nasty. Maybe she just needed a drink. “D?” she croaked. “Do we have any water left?”

An insulated canteen pressed into her clammy hands. And despite the water inside being disgustingly warm, it was still cooler than it could have been given the circumstances. For this, she was grateful. But as her eyes twitched to gaze up at the stoic man, she found herself flinching back. That voice screeching, ‘ ** _Don’t trust him!_** ’

‘ _And why the hell not?!_ ’ she mentally hissed back.

It was silent for a good minute before finally admitting, ‘ ** _I can’t… remember._** ’

Well, there was no way she was going to give up on a good thing without a solid reason. This Hunter was the last person in her life she found she could trust. It was likely she’d be hard pressed to ever lose it. In fact, her mind turned to the previous night. Her mouth filling with blood that tasted so _good_ –

_No._

A rough, not necessarily unpleasant, shiver ran down her spine. No, she needed to apologize properly. She passed the canteen back into his hands. “D, I’m sorry, again, that I bit you. I don’t know why, but I honestly thought you were one of those beasts.”

“Think nothing of it,” he murmured.

“Well, I am. And I was thinking… an eye for an eye?”

With an inquisitive hum, he turned around to face the girl still stretched across the saddle. Of all things he expected, the soft brush of her fingers against his lips was not one. He tensed, hand snapping up to grip hers and distance himself.

Surely this girl was not serious?

No. Judging by the determined look in her steadily brightening eyes, she was entirely serious. And despite his almost painful hold on her wrist, she persisted. “Bein’ a Damm… damn… uh…”

“Dhampir,” he supplied.

“Yeah! A damper – “

“Dhampir!” Hand interjected.

“Daaaaammmmpurr…”

“Peer!”

“Dhampir?”

“Gods, yes!”

“… Right. So, bein’ a damper – “

A frustrated screech interrupted her, and she merely chuckled, a mischievous look in her eyes. “Alright. _Dhampir_ ,” she stressed. “Anyway, you bein’ one, I figured that… if Nobles drink blood… Well, I haven’t seen you eat anything since we teamed up. You even said you hadn’t. So, if you bite me really, _really_ hard… that will make up for me biting you…”

Krista trailed off, but it didn’t take a genius to see where she was headed with this conversation. And as her small fingertips skimmed across his lips, once more, some dark part of him was certainly tempted by the offer. Teeth aching. Throat burning. Wondering if she would taste as sweet as she smells.

Instead, he metaphorically threw his hunger to the ground and stomped it into the dirt.

“Y’know… perhaps a simple ‘no’ would have sufficed?”

Or, perhaps he literally threw the source of his hunger to the ground?

A grunt and giggle escaped the girl as she struggled to right herself, small hands grasping at his coat and the nearby stirrup. She was weak. And she assumed it was from all the happenings. Maybe she needed to eat, again?

“D, seriously!” the girl moaned. “You gotta eat sometime! Do you filter feed?!”

The Hunter’s lips quirked as he stared down at the girl that closely resembled a petulant child, her crimson hair a wind-whipped mess and near-gaunt cheeks puffed. It was a classic case of the pot calling the kettle black. Krista was so small, and he could almost swear she’d lost a tiny bit more since the beginning of their trip. If anyone needed to eat, it was her.

“Speaking of filter feeding, how do Nobles get blood? Do they have to cut everyone?”

D mounted the cybernetic steed as Hand replied, “Nah, kid. They bite to draw blood.”

“Bite?” she intoned inquisitively, pulling herself up into the saddle but making it no further than her belly. She didn’t seem inclined to sit properly, so he nudged the horse onward once she settled. And she snorted. “I can’t imagine needin’ to bite someone as hard as I had to bite D last night every time I got a bit peckish. Seems like an awful lot of trouble and a big mess just waitin’ to happen.”

The countenanced carbuncle chortled. “They have fangs. Really sharp and long canines.”

“Wouldn’t they just bite themselves? Sounds like a free lip or tongue piercing.”

“I knew you were a bit in the dark, but this is just sad!”

Without retorting, Krista turned her attention to her hand. Specifically, the meaty section betwixt her thumb and forefinger. And after running her tongue across her teeth, she began the arduous task of attempting to draw blood. Chewing at the flesh in an attempt to understand.

It wasn’t even her canines that drew first blood.

Jostled by the horse galumphing over uneven terrain, applying too much force in pressing her hand to her teeth instead of the other way around, it was her hand that drew first blood.

And D could smell it. Fixing her with a disapproving stare, he popped her back. It wasn’t her fault she was so unknowledgeable. If she barely knew of their existence, how could she know the scent of blood could easily send a Noble or Dhampir with a lesser will into a frenzy? How was she to know that offering up her life source, even a paltry amount, could lead to an untimely demise?

But as she twisted to cast him a sheepish, bloody smile, he came to terms with the fact that the girl would likely bring about her own end.

“Kid… Did you really punch yourself in the face trying to figure it out?”

\---

Pain. It seemed like it was something she was getting to know a little too intimately. That small throb she easily ignored when she first awoke turned into something ugly. Something akin to the strike of a sledgehammer. And she was certain it was trying to crack open her cranium in a bid to escape.

Hell, she wanted to escape. No amount of eye-covering and face-rubbing helped ease the pain, and even then, her arms were getting tired from holding her hands up. She couldn’t duck into her cloak for too long. It was too hot. The sun’s glare bouncing off the sand was too bright for simply closing her eyes. And with it hanging so low in the sky, raising her hood was no good. Maybe she could just hunch over with her arms braced against her thighs?

“Hurgh…” Nope. Too much pressure.

“You okay, kid?” Hand enquired. It wasn’t hard for him or the Hunter to see she was distressed. But watching as she twitched and whimpered, fingers massaging at her neck, it was almost painful for him.

“I feel like… someone is trying to crack open my skull,” she moaned softly. “The light hurts, too. This is, without a doubt, the worst headache I’ve ever had.” And it was true. She’d never had one escalate this far.

“Sounds like a migraine.”

Another groan. “I suppose. Good thing the sun is starting to set.”

“Not quite yet,” the Hunter breathed.

“But it’s getting… darker?” Krista’s head cocked to one side, and she did well to mask the discomfort the movement brought as she focused. “What is that noise?”

It was a deep, mournful sound that cut through the quiet. A tune one might expect to come of wind rushing by buildings and trees. Of glass wind bells chiming and dead leaves colliding and clattering down a cobblestone street. And the longer she focused on the sound, the louder it got. The harsher it became until it was something comparable to the roar of waves against a rocky cliff in a storm. Cannons firing and houses _burning and plaster cracking and walls exploding and_ –

“Kid?”

The noise was gone, nothing left in its wake aside from the sting of claw marks marring her scalp. And a hand lightly grasping her shoulder.

With a shaky breath, Krista turned a watery smile towards the Hunter. Crimson fingertips trailing down her face until her arms fell limp at her sides. “I’m good?”

He didn’t believe her. It wasn’t difficult to see that hard edge to his gaze, but he didn’t comment. Instead, he cast his attention back to the sands and veered the horse towards an unassuming divot in the landscape. He would thank his lucky stars if this proved to be what he hoped for. If not…

D nudged the beast onward. He would not enjoy running the beast to its death to evade the storm steadily eclipsing the sun.

“Is that… sand?” queried Krista.

Again, not quite.

The horse stamped at the divot, and a thin layer of sandstone crumbled in. And Krista watched nonplussed as the man cloaked in black flew off the back of the creature and disappeared with a loud clatter through the stone. Sand and dust clouding the vicinity.

She waited.

“Did the ground eat you?” she yelled, immediately regretting the action as her head pulsed angrily. But she pushed on. “Because, if you seriously flake out because you went crazy and flung yourself into a hole in the ground…” The girl didn’t say it, but it was high on her list of ‘shit that should not kill this man’. It was just absurd.

However, instead of a response, a shrill whistle pierced the quiet. The horse nickered and pranced in place. Shaking and stretching each leg. With no further warning, it reared back and dove towards the opening in the ground. Like a performer executing a graceful swan dive. But the performer was a gigantic horse.

A behemoth of a beast that decided to practically belly flop into a very dark hole in the earth.

The noise that fled Krista’s mouth as they descended was painful, at best. For her and her companions. And the panicked sound bounced around the shallow cave she found herself in until it petered out into a pathetic, wheezy squeak.

“Welp,” she yelped. “That was… an experience. Glad I’m here.”

She didn’t sound glad.

“Glad I had this experience.”

Sarcasm. This was definitely sarcasm.

The Hunter merely watched as the girl lurched off the horse and peered up at the opening they’d burst through. Skies quickly darkening. And he was, indeed, thanking his stars for this shallow cave. Large enough to house the travelers and the steed, but not so deep he would need to fear something crawling out of the depths of the cave.

Well, unless something burrowed through the earth to reach them.

The probability of that happening was… low.

Maybe.

“So!” exclaimed Krista, face twisted into some awful combination of a grin and grimace. Perhaps just constipated. “What are we doing down here? Spelunking?”

“Evading the storm,” replied the Hunter. Fingers carding through the mane of the steed, he gently guided it further into their dwelling. He could almost feel her curiosity hanging in the air, but instead…

“This is a really cute lizard.”

… What?

“D, what kinda lizard is this? It’s kinda long, and it’s wiggling its tail at me.”

A loud, girly squeal.

“Is it some freaky cross between a dog and a lizard?!”

The man in black was suddenly there, forcibly wrenching the large ‘lizard’ away from the girl. It snarled and snapped at him, but dangling by its striped tail, that was all it could manage. Aside from trailing bubbling acid along behind them.

“Is it a bad lizard?”

“Venomous.”

Hand piped up. “They aren’t usually the nicest thing to have around. And I’m kinda surprised it let you come so close. Maybe it’s sick.”

Coming to a halt at the ‘mouth’ of the ‘cave’, D waited. Head cocked to one side. It would be simple to flick his wrist and kill the creature. But he ran the risk of slinging its venom everywhere. Despite the girl’s inhuman regeneration, he didn’t want to see if she could keep her face from melting off.

Well, maybe a part of him did.

Said girl approached cautiously, once again wearing her ugly-as-sin dress. “Whatcha waitin’ for? I mean, won’t it just run back in on its stubby legs if you throw it out?”

“That’s why we’re waiting on the storm,” supplied Hand.

“But it’s just a sandstorm, isn’t it?” she prodded, starting for the opening to peer out. “What good is that gonna do?”

Before she could get far, a strong hand clamped down upon her shoulder. The quiet howl became a fearsome roar, and he chucked the creature out the cave. Holding the girl still. Forcing her to watch as the sand consumed it. Flesh dehydrating and shredding as it twitched feebly beneath the storm’s wrath.

Mouth agape with horror, Krista skittered back with an undignified squawk. “Yeah! Okay! That’s… gnarly! Now I know why the towns have walls!” Hand shaking, she gave his arm a hearty pat. “I’ll just… I’ll just go curl up in the corner with the horse, now.”

The Hunter watched as she did exactly that, knees pressed to her chest and chin cradled in their created groove. He couldn’t necessarily blame her for her, almost, childlike reactions. But God, help him. At this rate, it appeared he would be teaching her more than her schooling did.

Honestly. Who looks at a girl and says, ‘Keeping this knowledge from her is a good idea’? Who looks at anyone thinking such nonsense? It’s not far from simply signing their death warrant.

Well… he doubted many of them were still alive.

Busying himself with removing the saddle and bags from the horse, D pushed everything to the back of his mind. At least, for a moment. Contending himself with taking stock of their medical supplies and such. Listening to the girl come out of her shell and mutter sweet words to the horse.

If not for the storm now raging outside the cave, it might have been fairly peaceful. A serene atmosphere that he might have taken a moment to enjoy.

He supposed he could still enjoy it.

Parchment marked with possible necessities slipped into the folds of his coat as he settled himself against the cave wall. Positioned to clearly view the opening and keep an eye on his companions. And there he resided as night fell upon the desert, their shelter becoming darker than pitch.

The girl had long gone still, and he was left to assume she was sleeping. Possibly to sleep away her migraine. Even if she was awake, he doubted she would be protesting the dark.

She suddenly stirred. Pushed off from the wall and rose to her feet. Hands clamped down over her eyes as she stumbled across the cave. If he had to guess, she was in pain. An excruciating amount of it.

His hair stood on end, flesh puckered and crawling as he rose to halt her advance to the mouth of the cave. The air was heavy and charged. The closer he stepped to the red-head, the more his skin prickled. The feeling reminiscent to being lightly shocked. Or being too close to the strike of lightning.

Pressing against Krista’s clammy forehead, Hand grumbled, “D, what the hell is goin’ on?”

Honestly, as he pulled the shuddering frame close, he didn’t have an answer for the creature residing in his hand. Only the assurance that he was just as in the dark (literally) as him.

\---

“Mama?”

The voice, small and squeaky in an endearing and childlike way, bounced around the tastefully decorated, yet modest, entryway. The beige walls filling her with a sense of warmth. A sense of belonging that could only be described as home.

“Mama?” Krista called, again, taking a moment to admire the round clusters of pink and purple flowers occupying the vase on the table. “What did Mama call these? Rode… Rode-duh-doo… Ron-rons?”

“ **Din-druhns?** ”

“Close enough. Now, where’s Mama?”

‘Mama’ was suddenly there, curls the color of midnight bouncing and swaying in time with her hurried steps as she snatched up a small hand and whisked the child down the hallway. Brows furrowed and almond-shaped eyes pinched with worry. But as the child queried where they were rushing to, she remained silent.

A wood door, dark and worn with age, met them at the end of their ‘trip’. And it swung outward beneath the woman’s hand with a painfully loud screech, hinges groaning from lack of use. The room beyond was musty and cool. Dark. Recessed a few steps into the ground, with only leveled earth as the floor. Much like an incomplete root cellar. The woman seemed pleased with its state, however, turning a decidedly grief-stricken look to the small child.

“What’s wrong, Mama?”

The mother still did not answer. Merely smoothed out the pastel pink sundress the child wore and pulled her into a long, too-tight hug. “Remember what Daddy taught you about hiding?” Her voice was soft as she posed the question. A sweet, lilted tone.

And she knew it was a shame that such a sweet voice be warped by sadness. “Yes.”

“Good. I need you to hide behind the crates. And don’t come out for _anyone_ ,” she stressed.

“Are you leaving?”

Again, no answer. But she pulled back and a bittersweet smile curled her thin, rosy lips. “Mama loves you,” she breathed. “Bo-”

Anything she’d been about to say was interrupted by a thunderous crack.

The girl watched as amber eyes hardened, and with a soft shove, she was thrust into the storage room. Door slamming shut with an air of finality. And no matter how hard her tiny hands pushed against the wood, it did not budge. Did not give in to her soft sobs. Did not fall to her gut-wrenching wails. “Mama! Please come back!”

Minutes passed. She fell quiet, realizing the door could not be swayed, and threw herself to the ground. Wriggling around in the loose dirt until she was sufficiently covered, her once pretty dress looking like she’d scrounged around in the gutters for a living. From there, she flew to the back of the room and scrambled up the shelving there. Pressing herself into a space that should have been too small. Shoulders pinched uncomfortably between the wall and a crate.

Silence and dust alike settled about the room. In the cramped space, she pulled her knees to her chest. Calmed her breath. Fell unnaturally still as she strained to hear anything within the home.

_Thump thump thump thump._

Soft, yet heavy footfalls rushing down the hallway. A distinct bare-skin-against-wood patter with each step. ‘ _That’s Daddy._ ’

More silence.

The shelving and crates lurched, the supporting wall heaving just before she heard the roar of… thunder? A cannon?

She couldn’t tell, ears ringing as dust and bits of plaster showered her head. And she cried because she just knew… Whatever defenses Mama had once claimed would keep them safe… She just knew they’d failed. And if they failed, what chance did they stand?

The ringing faded and… dear Gods, it wasn’t ringing.

Screams, sharp and shrill, echoed through the house.

Biting back a whimper, the child pressed her hands to her ears. As much as she wanted to flee, and as much as another voice literally ordered her to bolt, she stayed. Huddled in that small space. Eyes screwed shut as she cowered. Body twisting uncomfortably as she forced herself further into the hole.

She grew stiff, tiny fingers and bare toes going numb.

She knew not how long she hid there, arms slackening until, eventually, her ears were uncovered.

Silence.

But not the comforting silence that lulls one to sleep. No. This was more akin to the silence that falls over graveyards and funeral parlors. Long after the living have vacated.

Not that she could pinpoint that as the same feeling.

A creak. Of old hinges protesting their use.

Slowly, oh so very slowly, she craned her neck just enough to peer through the gap between crates. The door to the room was open. And in its frame stood a mountain of a man, eyes spilling blood light rolling about the room in a jerky, manic fashion. Searching.

This man was not Daddy.

“Baby?”

And despite the voice being Mama’s…

“It’s safe to come out!”

Panic twisted and curled through her. Heart attempting to leap into her mouth. Beat its way out of her chest. Everything in her wanted nothing more than to run. But she willed it to quiet, fingers digging into the flesh above the fluttering organ.

This man, this imposing person…

He sniffed the air, lurching into the room as a cruel smirk curved his thin lips. Head tipping to one side ponderously. “Honey, it’s time to stop hiding.” Closer he stalked, body twisting this way and that to search. Until once at the back of the room, he froze. Lips lifting with a snarl. Bushy brows pulled low with anger.

With a few choice words, he swept far more gracefully than should be possible for a man of his stature out of the room.

A shuddering breath left her as a hush settled over the house, once more. She dared not move, knowing he might not be far, and strained her ears.

_Tap._

Her head swiveled around and she stared owlishly at the wall. Closer to the door than her, but still along the same wall as herself.

_Tap._

_Tap._

_Tap._

Closer the raps came.

_Tap._

Closer.

_Tap._

_Closer still._

_Tap._

_Ta-tap._

_Ta-tap._

_Ta-tap._

_Ta-tap._

So very close.

“ _Such a strong heart!_ ”

In that moment, her heart felt anything but strong. Lurching to a halt in her chest as the deep, booming voice seemed to rattle the rafters and her fear consumed her. A large hand burst through the wall, debris from the wood laths and plaster pelting her flesh. Burly fingers curled through her hair. Pulling. Yanking her through the hole as she clawed desperately at the shelving and crumbling wall.

“Ah, don’t fight, kitten! Wouldn’t want you to end up like your ma and pa, would we?” the man guffawed, holding her at a distance as she flailed and screamed. And with a gleeful laugh, he lumbered down the hallway, calling, “Brother! I caught the little bitch!”

An almost wiry man dressed in charred flannel and breeches came flying out of the kitchen with a loud clatter, pots and pans scattered across the floor in his wake. He looked… excited as he rushed to meet them. That expression…

Despite being so young, it still made her skin crawl. Nothing good came of looks like that.

“Ho, she is pretty. And so small, too,” he gasped, cupping her chin and leaning in close. “I bet you’ll feel better than that other whore. Sound better. Taste better.”

The child’s stomach churned and clenched in terror as she clawed at the hands holding her aloft. Never mind the throbbing pain brought on by being suspended by her hair, worsened with each jarring kick she aimed at the man before her. She just… needed away!

Away!

_Away!_

**_Away!_ **

The men holding her faltered before laughing. And gently, like she was a fragile and cherished doll in need of new clothes, a set of thin fingers slipped beneath the strap of her sundress. Tearing it in two as though it were merely paper.

“Don’t worry, kitten,” he moaned, pressing an open-mouthed kiss to her bared shoulder. “We’re just gonna have a little fun.”

“Riedikke!”

The child slapped into the ground with a painful smack as the men startled like children with their hands caught in the cookie jar. Even with her head wrenched back by the hand still grasping her hair, she could say this was probably less painful. Not comfortable. But at the very least, she didn’t feel like her scalp was in threat of ripping loose from her skull.

Slowly, they turned to view the well-dressed man standing to one side, his fingers hooked in his grey waistcoat. The pale person fixed them with a disapproving stare and ran a slim hand through his sandy hair. “Both of you must be responsible for the mother’s current condition.”

The two holding her captive seemed to straighten and puff up at the accusation. But it was the brute that scoffed and challenged him with, “And what’s your point, Laun? Nothin’ sayin’ we couldn’t do what we wanted with them.”

 “Must I remind the two of you of your orders, Jarrod? Riedikke?” he growled in response. “I am quite certain ‘violate the targets’ was not on the agenda. I’ll be back in half an hour or so. Keep yourselves in line and complete your tasks. Do I make myself clear?”

The brothers, whether by blood or not, scowled and bit out their reluctant affirmatives. But neither moved until the man called Laun disappeared. Their faces twisting with a warped sense of glee as they gazed upon the child, once more. “Maybe we can play a different game,” said Riedikke, tugging her to her feet. Even as she bit and clawed at his arm, he was not deterred. Mind filled with ideas for this new ‘game’.

Through the house he skipped, child and lumbering brother in tow. Past the storage room and beyond the hole in the wall. Into a study dyed vermillion. And with a harsh shove, she sprawled across the floor.

Not that he minded the view that graced his half-lidded eyes. The way her dress hitched up and exposed her legs. Her backside. The way she _squirmed_ –

But he was here for a reason.

As he towered above her, however, the girl found she only had eyes for the blood-stained riding boots just beyond her fingertips. Disregarding the possible danger she was in as horror, winding through her and rolling in her belly, halted any thoughts of escape. “Mama?”

“Yes! It’s Mama!” Riedikke grabbed her head and snapped it back. She needed to see this masterpiece in its entirety! Not just the gorgeous boots. “Look at her! So beautiful, isn’t she?”

The soft-spoken woman was barely recognizable, slouched down in the chair like a sack of flour not quite full. A once heart-shaped face, now bloodied and swollen, stared down at her. Cheeks split open and jaw slack and off to one side. Through the film of red obscuring her vision, she could squint and almost see a hollow smile in that mangled face. And from this angle, she could just barely see the gaping hole in her throat.

Some dark part of her wondered if that was how the Neanderthal acquired _Mama’s voice_.

However, a larger part of her continued to be paralyzed by fear. Disgust. Eyes landing on the cavernous cavity that once housed the entrails now arranged neatly to one side. Dare she think of it as organized?

No.

Not with the way blood painted the walls _and dripped from her belly and_ –

A soft gurgling filled the air.

The wiry brother moaned throatily, even as the child’s mouth gaped and bile sprayed the floor. “Oh, I do love those noises.” He handed her to Jarrod, slinking over to the mother. “If you wanted attention, all you had to do was ask.”

Back pressed against the larger brother’s chest, the child could see it now. The strangely unmarred chest shuddering, struggling to work lungs that were no longer available. Head bobbing as it struggled to raise.

Another rasping gurgle.

But Riedikke was there to help as the woman failed, his arm curling under her chin until he palmed her cheek and pulled her close. Nose nuzzling the curve of her neck like a lover. Fond and caring. Lips curved in a deceitfully gentle way as his opposite hand, fingers splayed, trailed over her breasts and ribs and plunged into the dark opening with a squelch.

_Another._

“Kitten,” he called over the noise, giving her a sidelong glance with those hooded eyes that burned scarlet. “I was thinking of playing a little game of dress-up. I promise, you’ll look absolutely stunning by the end.”

_Pop!_

The noise that followed could be closely likened to raw meat being crushed under a too-forceful grip, muscle popping and breaking down. Bursting between the fingers. Juices splattering against the counter.

The body in his hold convulsed before gradually stilling.

“Now!” The arm within the body jerked. “I have the perfect shade of rouge for those pretty cheeks!”

And so it began; a macabre fashion show where she was the unwilling participant. Where blood was delicately dabbed against her cheeks until they were rosy. Intestines looped about her neck to the point of choking in lieu of a cloth scarf. Eyes pinned to her scalp to adorn the crown of her head.

The deranged man started detaching fingers for… well, she really didn’t want to know. But she was infinitely grateful when Jarrod said, “Brother, we’re runnin’ out of time.”

Undeterred, Riedikke smiled widely and snapped off one more finger. Just for fun, she was sure. “Well, then this was a good start! Kitten, let’s go visit your old man!”

It was hard to struggle when pinned as she was, body so little and a captor so large. But she continued to flail. Even when she was ready to give up hope. Even as they passed through the entryway, now little more than an irreparably charred and still smoldering crater in the home, she fought, despite seeing the destruction and knowing that if her parents died to these men, so would she.

The ceiling heaved and groaned as they passed. However, not much farther down the hall, they stopped. She couldn’t see past Riedikke to know why he suddenly giggled, manic eyes alight with malicious intent. He swooped down, scooping his prize up from the floor. “Kitten, why don’t you give Daddy a kiss?” he suggested.

Slowly, he pivoted, until she stared into eyes the color of polished emeralds. Or, what used to be polished. Now clouded with death. Rolled back the slightest bit in their sockets. Drooping. Dripping. Fluids marking a path down his gaunt cheeks and square jaw.

She screamed.

One might think that, by now, she might be out of the screeching stage in this nightmare. But seeing her father’s decapitated head and sunken eyes only served to reaffirm what she already knew.

There really was no hope.

Riedikke pulled the head to his chest. Cradling it as he carded his stained fingers through the pale locks. “That wasn’t very well mannered of you,” he said, brows drawn down and lips pouted. “You’d think they’d have taught you better than to greet someone like that.”

“Why?!” she cried, straining all the more to slip free. “Why are you doing this?!”

“Well, you see, kitten,” he started, lowering the head to the floor with care and gesturing for Jarrod to do the same with her. “You’re needed for something.”

His foot drew back, and after a pregnant pause and pointed look, he said, “Your parents were in the way.”

For a moment, the girl thought he might kick her. Body positioned in such a way that it would be so easy. Especially as Jarrod forced her to her knees. But instead, his leg snapped up and came down, the head bursting open much like a melon under too much pressure.

It was then that she realized she was in the perfect position to be bathed in the resulting explosion of gore.

“It was a problem that needed to be crushed underfoot.”

She barely heard him. Instead…

Was that a chunk of brain clinging to her lips?

More bile spewed past her lips parted in horror.

That darker part of her made sure it splattered against Riedikke.

Even as she struggled to see past the tears flooding her eyes.

“Oh, poor dear. Let’s go.”

He twisted a hand through her hair, dragging her down the short stretch of hall remaining by the crimson tresses.

Not that he had to try hard.

She did not struggle.

**_Fight!_ **

Her body limp.

_I don’t want to._

Eyes clouded.

**_You have to!_ **

Not even seeing the gouges in the wood floor as she was drug across them.

_What’s it matter?_

Not noticing their halt.

**_Please!_ **

Not hearing them speak until…

_Maybe it’ll be faster this way._

A large hand descended upon her cheek like the wrath of the Gods.

“Ah! There’s our good little kitten.”

The child watched as he shook his hand, bits of crimson hair slipping from his grasp. Ears ringing and eyes shuddering.

“It’s time,” Jarrod chuckled.

“F-for what?”

“For goodbyes.”

The brothers shifted. And behind them, she could see a broad-shouldered torso, dressed in a loose cotton tunic. Arms outstretched and bent at queer angles. Nails imbedded in the floorboards. They kicked the body over.

The scent of charred flesh and tangy blood filled the air, and with a deep breath, Riedikke smiled. “Your old man had a lot of fight in him. Even with his shit ruptured and burning.” He quickly turned his decidedly lascivious smile toward her. “Exciting stuff. Maybe you’d like a closer look?”

It didn’t sound like she had much of an option. But still she screeched out a broken refusal, wide eyes unable to look away from the gaping, gooey mess. Blackened offal and an angry red bubbling and swelling. Flesh still decaying. Still weeping.

And as a pale arm wrapped about her waist, gone was the notion to take the abuse. She whirled. Attacking the man in flannel. Fingers clawing and teeth tearing into anything available. Blood like acid flooding her mouth.

Riedikke laughed, watching the child attempt to maul him. Admittedly, she was doing an impressive job on his arm. He shuddered. “There’s that fight!” he cried, grasping her by the scruff of her neck. “But I insist!”

With a speed that disoriented her, he twisted her around, shoving her face-first into the body’s open cavity.

She flailed, hands scrabbling on the floor and her father’s dead body. Desperation and panic stealing her breath. Horror muddling her thoughts as the chilled viscera pressed into her eyes. Her nostrils. Her lips. Her tongue as her body commanded she breathe.

When she choked and sputtered, limbs growing heavy and movements turning sluggish, she thought for sure this was the end. But the hand on the nape of her neck curled to the front and pulled her up.

She gasped, greedy lungs gulping down as much air as they could muster.

Tears poured down her face.

“ _Please!_ ” she wailed, voice raspy and strained. Sobs wracking her small body as the man pressed himself closer to her.

In that moment, the child knew not if she begged for an end to the torment or for an end to her life.

“I like when you beg, kitten,” Riedikke breathed. He pressed his hips closer as she continued to plead, the hand not occupied with her tender neck massaging her lower belly. “Laun isn’t back. Not yet. Maybe we can reward you for being such a good girl. What do you think, Jarrod?”

The voice that answered him was not his brother’s.

“I think you should have planned your night better.”

Riedikke slowly turned, casting an innocent smile at the man standing there. “Speak of the Devil.”

Such a noble looking man, truly befitting the name Noble, with royal blue eyes that twinkled like sapphires. He snarled, razor-like canines bared as he stalked forward. Hands curled. Ready to strike if need be. “I warned you, Riedikke. I warned you, and still you attempt to go through with your vile acts. If you weren’t needed, I’d rend the flesh from your bones. Snap your ankles and break all your toes. Take each finger as payment for all of their woes.” Closer Laun crept. “Pluck your eyes from your skull, so that you might never cast that lascivious gaze upon another. And once I was satisfied, I would turn you over to Doctor Edmont, so that you might never use your manhood against another, again.”

While normally one to smile at everything, Riedikke found himself wanting to cower from the Noble before him. Lips turned down in light of the threat from a typically calm man.

Not that Riedikke was one easily deterred.

But as Laun reached out and took the child from his grasp, he stayed his hand.

“Now, your task. I completed mine, so do not expect me to make the mistake of leaving a second time.”

The child flinched under the light hold, turning her blurred gaze upon Laun. “Please…” she sobbed, face feeling tight from the drying blood as she openly cried. “I’ll be good, I swear! Just… please! Don’t let him touch me, anymore!”

“I’m sorry.”

His head tipped down and… that look upon his face…

It was nothing like the one Riedikke had given her. And she knew, he was sincere in his apologies.

That he wouldn’t (or couldn’t) stop what was to come.

She became…

Resigned.

“Kitten.”

The grip on her shoulders tightened. Still, she turned in his hold to face the demonic man. Stomach twisting just at the sight of him. Heaving as he trailed a finger along her jaw.

It did not linger in its exploration, the Noble at her back growling much like a feral dog.

“Fine,” Riedikke huffed. From his pocket, he drew a leather glove, the once pale hide stained and scored with arcane seals and runes. He jerked it on, forming a fist no less than five times until each mark glowed like smoldering coals. Ensuring every miniscule barb penetrated his flesh and fed the symbols.

“Little kitten, who knows when you’ll remember this. Who knows if you ever will? But we’ll be back for you. In fact, we won’t be too far. We’ll practically be neighbors!” He tapped her nose, making a soft ‘boop’ noise.

She might have laughed at the gesture if it’d been done any other time. If her parents weren’t mutilated heaps of flesh. If she was oblivious to his true nature.

She almost did. Because to see this side of the maniac…

If she squinted really hard, he looked almost like he could be a wacky uncle.

But he turned that disgusting grin upon her, once more. Fingers housed within the archaic glove trailing over her tender scalp. “Oh! I thought those had fallen out!” He paused in his mission to briefly tweak the pins still imbedded in her scalp. “And don’t get your panties in a twist, Laun. I’m just removing them.”

He did.

Slowly.

Painfully.

Only satisfied when she was whimpering pitifully and Laun looked ready to kill.

“There! All done!”

And as he ran his gloved hand over the bleeding marks, even the child looked eager for his life. Vibrant, two-toned eyes narrowed and lips drawn up over her teeth. He smiled and pressed on.

If she had to describe what it felt like he was doing, she might say she was on the receiving end of a massage given by a hot, stone hand. Tapping and pressing. Kneading the flesh and growing warmer.

_Warmer._

_Scalding._

The child made to flinch back.

She couldn’t.

Muscles cramping and going rigid.

“You’re forgetting.”

Her vision swam and…

Where is…

**_No._ **

“I said forgetting. No fighting.”

**_No._ **

“Forget your troubles and sink into that dark abyss.”

An ocean stretched before her.

Dark.

Darker than dark.

A void.

“That’s it, kitten. Let it wash over you.”

It looked so calm.

Comforting, but…

_I’ll drown._

_I’ll…_

The water rippled and heaved.

Climbing and twining about her legs like clingy ivy.

**_No!_ **

The waters receded.

“Naughty child. Don’t you want to forget this nightmare?”

_Yes… no…_

…

**_No!_ **

“Then maybe, someday, you will remember, again.”

The waters rose.

Spiraling into spires higher than she could see.

“If you play your cards right.”

The columns curled inward.

Points emerging from the dark.

Converging.

Pressing into her scalp.

“Until then…”

They penetrated her.

_It **hurts!**_

Wriggled like maggots in her mind until…

“Forget.”

\---

In the dark of the cave, a single rune burned like dying embers upon the girl’s forehead.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Also, I'm on tumblr!
> 
> Not that it matters. I don't post anything. I just creep. Eh, whatever...


	6. Warning and Consent Required

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Yooooo!  
> I forgot and I am so sorry.  
> I realize this is no big hit, but I can see the hit count rise. So it is being read. So I should update when I have the bloody chapter ready.  
> But honestly, thank you to everyone who reads and continues to read. I will try to be more... timely in my updates.  
> If you could let me know what you think, I would greatly appreciate it!

The Hunter shook his head, almost as if he could shake loose the ringing in his ears as her wails reverberated about the enclosed space. He still held her, now kneeled upon the ground with her arms tucked against her sides. Effectively ceasing the clawing she’d started.

Halting the shed of his blood. Her blood.

It still trickled down her forehead. Flung every which way as she thrashed like an animal caught in a trap. Her eyes wide but unseeing. Chest heaving as she struggled for each panicked breath. Stomach juices and saliva dripping past parted teeth and onto his arm. Not that he minded. Nor did he mind her fingers spasmodically digging into his thighs.

How long did he stay crouched there? Arms encircling the small woman gradually growing rigid as her muscles fluttered and constricted. Perhaps only a quarter of an hour. But he could feel the shift in the air. That charged feeling steadily giving way to the soft serenity that typically surrounded the girl as the smoldering rune faded.

A horrifying mixture of laughter and sobbing abruptly erupted from her. Her body rocking in his hold with the force of each vocal expulsion of air.

This was anything but serene.

Perhaps he’d been thinking of someone else.

But this girl in his arms… she continued her laughing and her wailing as the scene faded like a bad dream. The sour smell of her bile shortening each breath and only serving to heighten her hysteria. She knew! She knew there was a reason why that **_bastard –!_**

She retched.

Loudly. And fell into another fit.

A soft grumble filled the air.

Was that… a growl?

A purr?

And something warm and soothing slid across her eyes. A hand. Pulling her head back until it rested against an armored chest that vibrated and rumbled, a calm settling about her mind. Her body. Perhaps not her soul, but she felt so… at peace. If only for a moment.

“What did you see?”

Oh.

His voice was… so very soothing. And she’d almost started to…

_“Forget…”_

Another burble of giggles poured from her mouth.

“I… forgot! I forgot! But now I know! Laun! And that… _man! That son of a **bitch**!_ ” Her breaths were coming too quick, again, rushing in and out like the ocean waters during a storm. Eyes rolling as she began seeing things that no longer existed. “And if I could! I’d go back! **And I’d make him suffer sevenfold!** ”

That unhinged, howling laugh erupted from her throat, once more. And again, that rolling noise was there to tamp it down. Almost a soothing balm for her fracturing psyche.

“What did you see?”

But it throbbed like an angry wound at the question.

In the same moment, she couldn’t help but feel compelled to answer him. And she was almost unwilling to fight the feeling. Not when he was shifting them back, hands pulling her close to his breast much like a swaddled babe. Not when, in that moment, she felt safe.

So, with a soft sob, she delved into parts of the memory she deemed relevant. Vague renditions to gloss over as much as possible. Her fingers squeezing the firm flesh of his thighs because it was still the only thing the bloody digits could worry. Especially when her breath came too fast or too harsh. When her stomach rolled and cramped. When she finally asked, “What were my parents in the way of? What could have possibly made them deserve… that?”

The Hunter did not have an answer for her. He merely shifted until the shuddering girl was nestled against his side, finding himself partially unsatisfied with the faux farmer’s demise. This girl… While rape wasn’t necessarily uncommon, some Nobles truly took the cake. Low enough to consider children and twisted enough to make some sexual deviants seem tame.

A shuddering sigh escaped the girl as she scrubbed her face semi-clean with her sleeves.

“Welp. At least my head doesn’t hurt anymore. But I should probably… clean that up.”

She didn’t move. As drained of energy as she was unwilling to ponder how she could see the gloopy pile of sick in the deep darkness of the cave. Unwilling to discover why she could see anything.

“Any minute now.”

A handful of minutes passed with her staring blankly ahead before D stretched out one leg, kicking loose sand at the small pool of bile. The smell to begin with was not horribly pungent, but at least now, soaking into the fine grains, it was all but gone.

“I guess that works, too. Still gotta move it outta the way.”

Another bout of silence and dead staring.

Slowly, she slunk down. Stretching out and wiggling her foot at the pile until it scattered from an errant twitch.

“Poop.”

It was the Hunter’s turn to sigh, the action little more than any other exhalation. “You should sleep.”

“Don’t wanna,” she pouted like a petulant child. And while she shrank under his piercing stare, she would not give in. Instead, she stretched out a hand and pawed at his cheek, attempting to lazily turn his gaze away. Had she not been unnerved by the look in his eyes, she might have laughed at the smooshy-face this gave him.

No. No laughing happened when his hands came in to cup her face. Left hand pressed to her temple. Right hand ensuring she could not look away. Her face scrunched up in confusion and, perhaps, just a bit of fear, the memory still a raw, festering wound. But… she trusted him. So, if he wanted to play, she would.

Her other snapped up, pushing at his cheek until his lips pursed. “Squishy-face!”

Error.

D.exe has stopped.

“Squishy! Face!”

She smooshed his face more.

Ah.

Slowly his hands came together.

“Harder.”

Closer.

“Harder!”

Every bit of her face was puckered up before she was satisfied, eyes squinted and lips unable to close. But still she laughed and exclaimed, “Sqwooshy-fehs!”

It was settled.

She was definitely a child at heart.

A very… sheltered child.

Who else would dare attempt to get away with doing ‘squishy-face’ to the fearsome Hunter?

“Best! Face! Ever!”

Cue a timely eyeroll.

But, if it helped cheer her up and take her mind off things... Again, he couldn’t blame her.

Much.

“Sleep,” he breathed. With a diminishing chuckle, her eyes rolled back. Arms falling limply to her sides as she did exactly that.

There was a beat of quiet as she softly snored.

“I assume,” Hand started, “that you want a look into whatever she saw?”

In answer, D slid his left hand around. Pressing the palm firmly into her forehead. With no further prodding, the countenanced carbuncle delved into the depths of her psyche. Dragging them deeper and deeper. Down until he floated in a sea of information. Watching her memory crawl by and analyzing each aspect of it until he was left with a better understanding.

Some answers.

More questions.

Hand pulled back as they slammed against that fuzzy, black wall, once more, tiny face twisted into a scowl. “Deplorable bastards,” he spat. “No wonder she was acting odd around that guy. But the differences between Laun of Puregon and there. It’s like night and day.”

D hummed in agreement, standing to sweep the vomit-soaked sand off to one side before situating himself by the horse.

“Y’know… I want to think that Riedikke guy dying is what caused this. But I’m not so sure,” Hand murmured to himself once the Hunter was settled. “Because, if it was that… wouldn’t she have remembered everything immediately?”

Again, however, the man in black had no answer. Sword at his side. Propped against the saddle and bags as he thoughtfully observed the crimson-haired girl.

In time, darkness sucked him down, visions of a feral Krista muddying his thoughts.

\---

It was cold.

A testament to the harshness of the desert and a sure sign of the approaching winter, the chill that settled about the chamber did well in waking Krista. Her body shaking as she wiped a line of drool from her chin and headed for D.

Or more importantly, the bags he rested upon.

Specifically, a thermal blanket.

She silently thanked the Gods that she could still see enough to dig like a mad rat and that he wasn’t laying on it. But as she wrapped up in the one blanket, she quickly realized that… it wasn’t helping. Determined, however, she collapsed in her previous spot and rolled herself up tighter.

This did little to halt the invasion of the chill. If anything, she felt colder.

With a pathetic whine, she resigned herself to her fate.

She would leech the heat off D.

Still rolled up in the blanket, she wriggled like an inchworm over to the Hunter. Scooting awkwardly closer until she came within touching distance of him. Wondering how he could be so unbothered by the temperature.

Head cocked to one side and lips pursed, she studied him, once again unaware the look was being returned.

Perhaps he wouldn’t mind? But… she was doing this consciously this time.

‘ _Gods, help me._ ’

‘ ** _Pfft. You wish. Just you, me, him, and his hand._** ’

She was quiet for a moment too long. “Why do I feel like I’m missing something?”

Her answer? Something she’d come to expect at this point. A boisterous laugh that bounced around in her mind. Taunting her and, for a reason she couldn’t fathom at that moment, bringing her comfort. So, with an ungraceful flop and a too loud grunt, she shimmied in close to D’s side.

Immediate relief.

And she was asleep before she could finish apologizing for the intrusion.

_ November 04, 13,012 _

“Too warm!”

She’d never been to a sauna. But as sweat dripped from her brow, she imagined it might feel something like this. Panting, she snapped up, rubbing the sleep from her eyes. Taking the moment after to let them trail lazily over the man at her side. Fingering the edge of his coat that he’d somehow encompassed her with.

Outside, the storm still raged.

And while the wall of sand blocked a good deal of sunlight, the area was bright enough to accommodate her eyes. The breeze doing well to cool her as she stood from her ‘nest’ and folded the blanket. Not that she really wanted to. However, there was no need for her to be clingier than she already was. No need to encroach upon the Hunter’s personal space more than she did.

‘ ** _You keep stuffin’ that thing and it’s gonna pop._** ’

Too right, the voice was.

She’d been attempting to shove the blanket back into the bag without thinking. Now, the saddlebag was more reminiscent of a poorly and overly-stuffed teddy. Seams looking ready to burst. Made one wonder how he managed to pack it in the first place.

‘ ** _Just leave it._** ’

Hanging half out of the bag, she did, and fell with an overdramatic sigh to her rear. Or perhaps groan was a more suiting description once her fingers found her hair. The tangled, matted, crusty, tacky mess making her lips twist in disgust.

And simply dragging her fingers through it wasn’t helping. In fact, it was probably exacerbating the issue.

“Fine! Fine!” she hissed, hands flung into the air. “I’ll just be nasty!”

Not that they had the water to spare for a good cleaning, anyhow.

So, there she sat, grumbling. Waiting for the Hunter to show signs of life. Almost wishing there was something she could do. But then, when was the last time she’d had a day where she did not need to run? When was the last time D had been able to just… rest?

She was sure the man lived a life on the move. Maybe that was why he was still asleep.

With a shrug, Krista dug her pointer finger into the sand and drew. Idle drawings marking the ground. Filling the space surrounding her. And she only stopped when the muscles in her back were stiff and her legs were numb.

Also when faced with her embarrassingly cartoonish renditions of her traveling companions and other figures.

Worming her way to D, she called his name.

No response.

Worry clawed its way to the forefront of her mind. If she had to guess by the amount of light now filtering through the clouded air, she’d wager it was sometime around noon.

“D?”

She chewed on her lip and eyed the Hunter. He looked… ‘ _Deader than dead._ ’

‘ ** _The deadest of dead._** ’

She’d yet to really catch the man sleeping. Perhaps he was just a deep sleeper?

‘ ** _Real deep sleeper._** ’

“You’re not helping!” Krista suddenly exclaimed.

‘ ** _Not tryin’ to,_** ’ the voice quipped. ‘ ** _But you could try kickin’ him._** ’

“Nah. I’ll give him a few more hours.”

And she did.

Barely.

Perching above him as the allotted time came and passed.

But still, he did not rouse.

If he breathed, she could not see or feel it.

If his heart beat, she could not hear it.

Brows scrunched with concern, Krista called his name. Hand’s. Yelled them, her hands gripping his coat.

‘ ** _Stab him_** ,’ the voice supplied. ‘ ** _If he wakes up, great! If not… Well, you’re one step closer to puttin’ him out of his misery._** ’

“How about… I pinch him.”

‘ ** _With a knife._** ’

“With my fingers.”

‘ ** _Killjoy…_** ’

With a soft hum, Krista snatched up his hand and shook herself. Mentally preparing to pinch the ever-loving bejeesus out of him. “Maybe he’s just sleeping. Maybe this’ll wake him. But then again, he doesn’t seem to be fazed by much.”

With a terrified squeak, she squeezed her eyes closed and acted.

…

‘ ** _That… what you’re doin’ right there… that isn’t enough to even squish a fly._** ’

“…Crap.”

‘ ** _Just get it over with! Like rippin’ off a bandage!_** ’

“Wait, kid! Don’t!”

But it was too late to heed Hand’s hoarse warning.

Almost without her bidding, the fingers of her left hand had already clamped down on the flesh. Violently pinching and twisting the skin. In the same instant, a grumbling growl filled the air and normally onyx eyes spilled a malevolent blood light.

The air rushed from her lungs. Sharp, jarring pains racing down her spine and through her skull. Through her neck. Stars sparking to life in her dark vision as dust clouded the air and pebbles plummeted from the cave ceiling. But through it all, she could see those burning coals. Irises framed by narrowed lids almost brighter than she could stand.

She’d goofed. She knew it by then.

And Gods help her. She was going to die in this hole because she decided to wake the Hunter and she couldn’t breathe and he was above her and poised to strike and –

Pale hands encircled her throat, but they did not tear or claw. Did not squeeze. Fingers merely prodding at the quickly bruising skin and tipping her chin up until the damage could be surveyed. But as he did this, only one thing went through her mind.

“We’re not… dying!”

Oh, that sounded horrible. Like she was eighty years old and she’d been chain smoking and shooting whiskey since she was ten. Maybe missing a lung. Or just terrible asthma.

Another wheeze. Her chest heaving with the effort.

Had she the energy, she might have been clutching at her throat and sternum.

Or slapping at the Hunter.

He was the whole reason all this happened!

“If you sleep… this deep… all the time…” She paused, panting for a moment. “Well… it’s no wonder… you barely sleep…”

“Sorry, kid,” Hand murmured as D continued his prodding. “I was gonna warn you but… I took the opportunity to catch some sleep, too.”

The probing digits coaxed her forward. “I apologize. This is not a common occurrence.”

A strained braying filled the air.

It wasn’t until the Hunter fixed her with an almost worried stare (he had, after all, just attempted to murder his client) that he realized she was laughing. Lips lifted and eyes crinkled in her mirth. Despite how the action surely pained her.

“I hope not!” With tears beading in her eyes and her breaths coming short, she gasped, “Next time… you look deader… than a doorknob… I’ll just not… and say I did!” Indeed. She reckoned she would not be inclined to disturb the man’s sleep in the future.

But at the same time, she couldn’t help but wonder. What had caused this? Some sort of Dhampir thing?

“You could say so.”

She startled. Cheeks flushing with embarrassment.

“Yes, you said it aloud,” the Hunter answered before she could ask. His right hand rose to eye level with her, fingertips greased up in a salve she never noticed him fetch. However, with his packing skills, she wouldn’t have been surprised if he kept it on his person. “Don’t move.”

It went on cool. Tingling and smelling much like a menthol compound. Or a mint. Something else that her nose couldn’t pick up. But at least the act of him rubbing it on was nice. Soothing. Calming. And already, her breaths came a bit easier. “That’s nice.”

While they sat there, D’s hand continuing to gently massage the greasy substance into her neck, she listened to the Hunter and the countenanced carbuncle explain what had happened. That this really was a rarity. A result of multiple incidents stacking and compounding until he was forced to rest.

Krista interjected, “The deepest of rests!”

Indeed.

And he was content to continue their talk of the sleep (dubbed the Deadening by the girl) until he eyed the ground marred by her drawings. Some looking… okay. Others appearing… well, they looked like they were suffering and needed to be put out of their misery. The debris scattered over the area likely did not help.

Despite all the different faces staring up at him, he only had eyes for one.

“What are you starin’ at?”

He briefly gestured at the countenance. Fingers itching to further ruin the drawing. Obliterate it. Ensure it could never cast its gaze upon him, again.

“Oh… um… Why? It’s not that great.”

“Where have you seen this face?” D queried in turn, eyes narrowing and flashing dangerously.

Her mouth fell open, prepared to answer. However, she snapped it shut with an audible clack once she realized she had no good answer. She almost replied that it was him. But, no. She could see his portrait set a few inches to the side. And the closer she looked between the two, the more she saw wrong,

“I’m not sure,” she eventually mumbled. “A dream? From yesterday?”

The memory was slipping through her fingers like rainwater. She just couldn’t place where she’d seen it. Not until she remembered thinking that the demon looked much like her companion. But wholly different in the same instant.

“Yeah… I saw that face yesterday. I guess I passed out?”

The Hunter was not sure that was exactly what the girl did, but he supposed it was close enough.

“He was in my dream. Kinda. He looked like this!”

From the fairly drawn head sprouted a network of root like structures.

No. That was a stick body.

With stick wings.

“You draw the face, but you can’t be bothered to draw a proper body?” Hand quipped.

“Yeah, well! I’m lazy and I can never get the proportions down! And I’ll prove it to you!”

Oh.

She proved it, alright.

“Those are clubbin’ hands!”

“I told you!”

“Kill it! Kill it with fire!”

D, body tense and jaw working, brought his right hand down and brushed it out of existence. For a good minute, all were silent.

“So… What’s the deal with the face?”

The man in black did not answer. Fingers clawing the dirt before he cast a dark look upon the girl. “Do you recall anything you said after you bit me?”

She had to admit, the look was a tad unsettling. And she wondered what made her garner his… dare she call it ire? “I honestly don’t. Not after I apologized. Just that I was walking to the horse with you and then… I wasn’t. I was waking up after my dream. _Why?_ ”

“ _He_ has been gone for a very long time,” Hand supplied after a terse silence.

“Oh.” What more could she say? “I’m sorry that I don’t remem-ow! What the fudge?!”

Midsentence, the Hunter had stretched out her arm and took a dagger to her upturned palm. And as she stared nonplussed at D, clutching the wound, he drew the blade across the flesh of his own palm. With no further warning, he clapped their hands together. Squeezing her hand so tight, she feared something might crack.

For a moment, she wasn’t in the cave with a ‘friend’. She was back in Puregon with an imposter. And it wasn’t something she wanted to associate the Hunter with.

“D, that bloody hurts!”

With a snap, their hands came apart. The sudden release flinging Krista back. But there she lay, eyes steadily glazing over until the Hunter knew she was out of it. Breaths short and panicky. Her fingers twitching as if she were grabbing for something.

Predictably, however, that electrifying blue engulfed her irises. Swiveling about the area until they regarded the Hunter with an air of disgust. “ **The Hunter. That Man. Can he be called a Man? Dressed in blood and birthed from the very depths of Hell. His son no better. And here he is with this failure. Ready to strike ‘em down like beasts for the slaughter. Is that it? Just a beast? A purpose no bigger than to feed… And burn.** ”

For a moment, the Hunter might’ve thought she was disintegrating before his very eyes. But as he blinked to clear his vision… no. He’d been staring too intently. With a lurch, he came closer to her. Brows furrowed as something akin to dread settled briefly in his bones.

“ **Go away!** ” she hissed, gnashing her teeth. “ **You’re the same! You’re… He’s… Dammit!** ”

It seemed this was the end.

That it would play out much like before.

Where everything slipped through the cracks. Flitted away with the breeze. Sank into the rising tides. “ **Drownin’. Burnin’. Sinkin’ further an’ further. It’s all the same. Can’t remember for all the forgettin’. An’ the cause? Fuckin’…** ”

She was gone. Eyes fluttering closed as her curse petered off into a soft snore. Muscles jumping and jerking.

D leaned back on his haunches, regarding the sleeping girl with an understandably severe stare. But in the end, what could he do?

“Creepy, isn’t it?” Hand chortled. “Kinda makes me wonder what she sees. Did you have anything in mind when you did that? Because I think you scared her half to death!”

“I was thinking of Doris and Dan,” he replied.

“Then, what she’s seeing can’t be controlled, it seems.”

It would appear that way.

But there he left her, taking a moment to cushion her head before retreating across the cave. Sinking into his thoughts and pondering the possibilities.

It was night by the time Krista roused, spewing profanities in the same fashion as the previous day.

But this time, it was directed solely towards the Hunter. Eyes alight with anger. Hurt. Betrayal. Shining brightly in the dark of the cave until… nothing. They dimmed, and she turned from him.

‘ ** _I warned you, didn’t I?_** ’

Krista did not respond.

What could she say? The voice wasn’t right.

But it wasn’t wrong, either.

_ November 05, 13,012 _

Morning came. The storm was gone.

At least, outside it was.

The crimson-headed girl had not shifted much through the night. Not for comfort. Not for warmth. Rising stiffly from her spot only once the day’s light crept into the opening of their shelter. She breathed not a word aside from a grumbled query of their estimated departure time. And she could hardly bring herself to look into the Hunter’s face.

No. That dead stare was focused almost wholly upon the flesh of her palm. Flesh that no longer bore the evidence that it’d been sliced open in a quick, clean motion.

If she were honest, she wasn’t sure what upset her the most.

Because, don’t misunderstand, she wasn’t oblivious to the fact that D was not checking on the wounds she’d had merely a week ago. Or even from three days ago. But watching the flesh split beneath his blade and waking to it sealed? She had to wonder why it’d not struck her before.

And even as her fingers worked themselves under the bandages stretched across her back, she wondered how she’d overlooked the lack of pain. Fingers worrying the exposed stitches still in her leg, but no longer serving a purpose.

Maybe that impersonator… _Riedikke_ … Maybe he was right in what he said.

‘ _I really am a freak._ ’

‘ ** _Nah… Well. Maybe._** ’

If this voice kept floating around in her brain, that ‘maybe’ would be a ‘definitely’.

She clawed out the black bits of thread while she waited for the Hunter and thought. Not that it mattered. What was a little more blood spilt when you’d never know it later?

Really.

What was a little more spilt?

“Kid.”

She jumped. Like a child caught wrist-deep in the off-limits candy bag.

“It’s time to go.”

Oh.

Fingers dug into the nearly-healed flesh before falling to her side.

“Okay. Coming.” And as she rose, she supposed her mood came from a combination of things. If she were Human, she shouldn’t heal so fast.

‘ _I’m an ‘affront to nature’._ ’

Apparently, she couldn’t be graced with a proper label.

‘ _What good am I to them? What use am I to him?_ ’

A wonderous pair of questions. She was just… her. Ditzy, hare-brained her. Granted, she managed to pull off some pretty impressive feats upon occasion, but she wasn’t consistent enough to be of much use.

Not in grand schemes.

‘ _What the hell am I doin’ here?_ ’

Not in keeping her hand from being slit open. Or staying out of trouble.

But her biggest problem?

While she thought she should be, she wasn’t really mad at D for flaying her palm. Upset? Yes. He could have warned her or explained his intentions! And why smack their hands together after the fact? Didn’t he know how much of a health hazard that was?!

Okay.

Never mind.

She was pissed.

‘ _But I’m sure he had a reason._ ’

Still pissed, though.

And as they traveled for the next few days, she stayed that way. Angry at the world and struggling to maintain that state of mind. The day they’d left the cave, it’d been easy. The second day? Still fairly easy. The third? She’d struggled. But self-hate was a wonderous thing. The voice was eager to stoke the fire, as well. But the fourth day? Gods, she just wanted an explanation or an apology! Maybe both.

The last day, as they passed from pale sands to dry shrubs and equally pale grasses, she found herself indignant. Confused. Tired. And more than happy when night came, because night meant stopping, stretching, and possibly getting over herself to talk to the Hunter now that she wasn’t irate. Now that she’d had time to think.

Like the graceful thing she was, she flopped out of the saddle and scrambled to her feet. Eyeing the man a tad too intensely as he tended to the horse. Only once he finished and was hefting the saddle and bags onto his shoulder did she call out to him. She had to wonder why she was so anxious. “D?”

He gradually turned, eyes flashing in the dark. Awaiting what she had to say.

“Do you have any diseases I should know about?!”

His brows arched the slightest bit. Not even enough to be noticeable in the dark. But based upon the flush overtaking the girl’s face, she seemed just as surprised it came from her mouth as he did.

“I’m sorry. Not what I meant to ask.”

Behind him, the horse nickered. Appearing almost amused as Krista floundered.

“Wait… _can_ you catch the not-dead dead genes from someone?!” Boisterous laughter filled the air, and Krista stomped her foot. “Hand, stop! I’m serious!”

“It’s too late,” D started, hardly needing to raise his voice to be heard as he deposited his load.

“ _What do you mean it’s ‘too late’?!_ ”

No answer. Only more guffawing from the countenanced carbuncle.

“ _D! You’re both being turds!_ ”

Another moment of unbridled amusement came to pass before the Hunter gradually clenched his left hand. Stifling the laughs and signaling for his companion to quiet. To Krista he said, “I apologize. I should have warned you of my intentions.”

“Or you could have just… not done it at all,” she grumbled, not surprised when he inclined his head in affirmation. “But, I guess I understand. You were… seeing if I’d dream, again? Of the man?” Another nod.

With a soft sigh, Krista slumped forward. Understanding and relief washing over her. And she couldn’t help but laugh in the voice’s metaphorical face. “Okay. So, yeah. I get it, and I am _half_ sorry I woke up yelling at you. But before you test something, again, please tell me. You just… coming at me was a little much.

“And, just so you know, I did dream. It wasn’t much different from the last. Still had that winged demon in it. Bloody creepy thing.” She didn’t elaborate, merely muttering about looping dreams and rotting teeth.

But when she fell silent, he did not press. Instead, he pulled out the lantern and, flicking the thing on, calmly explained that he had no diseases she could catch. Not without a conscious effort and some attempted neck-bites.

“Where on the neck? Here?” She poked the center of her throat, shifting her finger at his ‘no’ until it rested at the hollow of her throat. Another negative. Another shift. This cycle continued until the Hunter pressed his finger against the side of her neck, just over her artery. And with a loud squeal, she imploded. Shoulder snapping up and head twisting down so violently she shouldered herself in the face.

“Heh… I guess anyone looking for a snack might be _hard pressed_ to bite me.” Eyebrows waggling and lips stretched in a wide smile, she squirmed. But made no move to straighten up. “So, if you could move your hand away, that’d be great.”

He shifted.

Her cheekbone dug harder into his hand.

“Just… pull really fast?”

Possibly not her best idea. Such strength. Much speed. Wow. She didn’t think she’d ever hit the ground faster. World shifting from upright to downright wrong in the blink of an eye.

‘ ** _I don’t know. I think you flew across the cave faster than this._** ’

Above her, the Hunter extended a hand. Fully prepared to assist her up. But in response to both, she laughed and said, “You know, this is actually pretty comfortable. Rub burn aside. I think I’ll just stay here.”

So, he left her. Fingers deftly unhooking the sword and its sheath from his back as he turned off the lantern and sank against the saddle in the sandy grass. And he watched. Watched the stars shift and twinkle. Watched the horse collapse with a deranged whinny, legs flailing as it wiggled about on its back before falling eerily still. Watched the girl eventually flip over to stargaze after worriedly observing the beast from a distance.

He’d not slept since the cave, and after he observed the surroundings, his aura stretching to encompass the area, he figured it wouldn’t hurt to. So, as he sank into that realm between wakefulness and sleep, he paid no mind to the girl gradually shifting. Letting everything he’d taken in since the beginning of their adventure swirl about in his mind until he came up with a plan that would surely give them some answers.

And Krista was content. Mostly. Fingers carding through filthy tresses. Snagging on knots and leaving her with the wholly-encompassing sensation of disgust. Perhaps she could ignore it if she stargazed a bit more? Or just slept?

But sleep did not come.

Instead, she turned her gaze upon the heavens, once more. And something within her trembled. Terrified and anxious. A general sense of unease settling in her very soul as she gazed up at the infinite space stretching before her. Shaking her to the core.

‘ _That’s new._ ’ Perhaps she was just having an off night.

Her eyes snapped down, focusing on the dry grasses as she took a steadying breath. The effect was immediate. A calm like no other sweeping over her like a dense fog even as her nails bit into the flesh of her arm.

She drifted. Unaware of how long she floated in that purgatory the Hunter knew well.

‘ _Maybe short hair would be better._ ’

Ideas that invaded your thoughts while dozing had a tendency to sound either painfully stupid or incredibly brilliant. One could guess where this idea landed as Krista, eyes firmly closed, sat up. A slender hand trembling excitedly as it grasped for her daggers and pulled one free.

Crimson painted the ground as she worked, cutting with unskilled hands until her hair curved with her jawline. It was choppy. A mess of uneven lengths. But she was pleased with how the disaster felt against her fingertips.

It would be okay. Sure of it, a smile stretched across her face as she brushed aside the fallen hair. She stretched out on her belly and, sleep descending upon her, that voice she was far too accustomed to whispered, ‘ ** _You’ve lost your damn mind._** ’

‘ _Maybe so…_ ’

_ November 10, 13,012 _

The soft light of dawn spread across the land. In the distance, desert birds squawked and hopped. Reptiles chittered and hissed. Air chilled, but not frigid. The morning was calm.

“ _What the fudge?!_ ”

Was.

Because, apparently, his charge decided that now was the time to sing him the songs of her people. And what better way to wake the Hunter? A man built to kill and not easily startled. But in the time it took her to blink, he was standing with his blade drawn. Detecting no danger but well aware that stranger things had happened.

Who’s to say that, one day, someone or something wouldn’t find a way past the Hunter’s sharp senses?

This was not that day, and with a near-silent sigh, he sheathed his sword and settled it upon his back. This girl… oh, this girl. Eyeing the strands of hair surrounding her and clutched in her fists, it wasn’t hard to see the problem. But for clarification, he asked, “What happened?”

Her voice, though flat, relayed just how distressed she was. “My hair grew back overnight.” Before he could ask the reason, she continued. “I got upset over how dirty my hair was and I had the thought that it’d be better short.”

Her nails dug into her upper arm, once more. Scratching and digging at something he could not see. With little more than a quiet hum, he began searching for something.

“You know, I figure some people might kill for the ability to grow long hair that fast. I mean…” She trailed off for a moment, staring at the hair draped across her folded legs that transitioned from crimson to a stark black at the ends. “Even the black came back. What hair does that?”

More digging.

“Whatcha got there?”

The Hunter sat on his haunches before her. In his hand, he clutched two needles. Very similar in size and shape, but very different in make. Smaller than the ones typically used on foes, but having a purpose all the same. Rarely used, but always retrieved (when possible).

“Needles. Iron, and silver.”

“What are they for?”

“I’d like to test a theory,” he succinctly replied.

She was wary, still eyeing the instruments of torture no larger than a knitting needle when he requested her hands. And if she was entirely honest, she wasn’t sure she wanted to _hand_ them over.

_Snerk._

Her cheeks flushed with embarrassment at the noise, but she only pulled her hands closer to her chest. She was sure that the Hunter would respect her denial, should she give one. But with an over-dramatic sigh, the appendages were extended. “… Gonna hurt?”

It wasn’t quite a question.

“Possibly.”

This time, she huffed. “Thanks for the insight. But I am grateful you asked. So…” She shook her hands at him. “Do what you’re gonna do.”

Surprisingly, the needles went to one side. His hands cradling one of hers before his thumbs pressed into her palms. Rubbing. Kneading the flesh until her fingers were spreading invitingly and her eyes were closed. And she never noticed an absence of one.

However, she did not fail to notice the chill of cold metal against her palm. Blunt end rolling along the creases and divots, pausing only to wiggle in one spot. The needle was dull and not very shiny. ‘ _Must be the iron one._ ’

He grabbed the silver one gleaming in the early-morning light, repeating the process until he was satisfied.

“You know… if you were testing ways to make me calm and happy, I’m sure a few head-pets would’ve worked.” She nudged him with her foot. “Just for future reference.”

The Hunter logged that away. He wasn’t sure when it would ever be relevant knowledge, but surely it would serve some purpose. Even if for only a moment. Unfortunately for her, he had a theory he’d yet to test. With a flip of the needle, he dug the razor-sharp tip into the flesh.

The girl sighed. “Is _this_ part gonna hurt?”

“Undoubtedly.”

“Bring it on.” She expected a small prick. Or a nick. But as the needle shot straight through her hand with a small flourish of his own, she screeched and about slapped him in the face. She might have done it, too, had he not caught the swinging limb and driven the iron needle through it, as well. “Bloody – Gods bless the country and save everything! That _hurt!_ ”

He said nothing of her colorful substitution for what was sure to be a very long, drawn out expletive. Only murmured over the countenanced carbuncle’s rambunctious laughter, “I warned you.”

“ _Warn me better!_ ” she hissed, pressing her foot against his stomach and lightly shoving. Not hard enough to knock him over. Just enough to rock him as the laughter died down. “What would require this?! Couldn’t you have just… given me a small poke?!”

“You’re healing too fast for ‘a small poke’ to be of use,” the Hunter calmly explained, thumbs massaging her trembling fingertips. “Prolonged exposure will allow us to watch for any reactions to these two metals and further determine what you _might_ be.”

“Pieces to the puzzle, so to speak,” Hand added. While his voice wavered with his mirth, he laughed no more. Opening D’s palm until he stared up at Krista. Or rather, stared at her hands. “How does it feel?”

“Feels like someone put a nail through my hand…” she deadpanned, and the creature groaned in response.

“I got that, smartass.” The beady eyes rolled.

But with her not focused on D, it gave the Hunter a small moment to collect her blood for analysis. Eyeing the dark green display of the micro computer as it struggled to read and decipher the information it was given. Struggled to infer the girl’s face. Struggled to tell him anything before releasing a shrill shriek. Error codes filling the screen at an alarming rate and the face it had attempted to generate twisting and warping. A glitched, screaming visage of what it could be before the error codes consumed it.

He switched it off and slipped it into the folds of his coat just as the girl snapped her head about to locate the source of the noise. He was a tad… surprised? The small machine was rarely incapable of completing its job. And yet, here was this girl.

“D, her hand is smoking.”

So it was. He pulled her right hand closer. Watched as wisps of smoke or vapor, belched forth from the wound, curled in the air. It smelled of… flesh burning on a hot pan. Of death. Of rot.

He could see it now. Flesh once red, blackening just around the edges. Spreading like ink in water.

The hand in his hold convulsed, blood gushing around the needle. Bubbling along the edges of the silver instrument until it turned to sludge and dripped like mud onto the ground. And Krista whimpered pitifully, squirming and stomping at the earth as the black receded only to come back stronger.

A handful of minutes passed as he continued to observe the spread.

It was fascinating. How her body attempted to flush out the irritant and only succeeded in further agitating the wound. Each spasm sending an angry pulse through her hand. The immediate area burning and itching with the wrath of a thousand rashes.

“D, can this experiment be over? Like, yesterday.” The girl flapped the hand with the iron needle in it about flippantly. Appearing unbothered by its existence as she inclined her head to the opposite hand, tears dripping down her cheeks. “Because I’d rather cut off my hand than continue this.”

“That’s a little extreme, don’t you think?” Hand laughed.

“No.”

“Well… better start cutting.”

One outraged squawk later and the Hunter was intervening. Swiftly extracting the metal needles with a sticky squelch before the girl could attempt to remove _his_ hand. He might even let her.

She huffed a sigh of relief. But it soon turned into a throaty grunt as D cleansed and bandaged her hands. Tightly. “D, my fingers are turning purple. Is that necessary?” She gasped. “Are my fingers gonna fall off?!”

“Your right hand is more likely to fall off before your fingers.”

A heavy silence stretched between them. The Hunter, staring impassively. Krista, mouth agape with terror as she struggled to decide if this was some joke or a serious issue. It was only after she decided there was no way to tell with this stoic man that she pulled her hands from his and murmured, “Can I have a hook hand?”

The Hunter was about to respond. Tell her that it was unlikely she would lose the hand considering her body was actively fighting the reaction (and fighting it very well, at that) and would likely be healed within a few hours. But with a fierce look, she shook her stiff hand at him and continued.

“Because I swear upon all that is good in this world, if I lose my hand and don’t get a kickass hand replacement out of it because of _your_ experiment, I _swear_ I’m gonna shove you so far into pink frills you won’t be able to see the light of day for a hundred years!”

Hand started laughing. Of course.

D just had to wonder where this girl came up with her threats.

“Man, I bet you’d look great in pink!”

No. Just… no.

“But not an overly bright pink. No… a soft pink!”

Still a no from him.

“With a tutu!”

Her eyes were sparkling, shining with her mirth and awe as she dared to imagine the impossible. But by this time, the Hunter had opted to turn away from her delusions and focus on cleaning his needles. Packing everything away as she spouted literal nonsense. Ideas regarding the duo traveling the world and putting on shows where… she would attempt to perform but would inevitably rely upon him to save the disaster.

“Suppose we could make money convincing people she’s part of a circus act,” Hand murmured.

Maybe so. But he did not agree. Nor did he disagree. Simply stared into the baggage and stored his bandages as she concluded her farfetched dream of becoming a traveling contortionist. Already she was failing miserably. Proving that, while flexible to an extent, she was not flexible enough to… contort her body and _not_ get stuck.

“Sweet, merciful Mother! What the Hell was I thinking?! And why is sand coming out of mah boot?!”

He glanced up just as her heel slipped over her shoulder and she kicked herself in the face. Laughing heartily despite the grimace dominating her expressive countenance. “Never mind! There is no way that is happening!” Another moment of her chortling passed before she began pulling at her split boot. “Now, get outta mah boots, sands!”

And the Hunter and the countenanced carbuncle found themselves unable to look away from the girl as she panted and struggled to remove the footwear. Specifically, the intact footwear. Grunting in a manner that sounded more like she needed a bathroom and less like she was disrobing.

“Seriously, think of all the money…” the creature whispered.

As if on cue, a pop and painfully loud squeal punctuated his statement.

“Why are sweaty feet a thing?!”

“Why not wear socks?” Hand suggested.

She huffed, clearly agitated at the boot and herself. “I didn’t think to grab any when I left town. Or more of… I didn’t wanna waste time looking for a clean pair? Besides, I’d still have sweaty toes. And then the socks would probably get crusty and nasty and eventually stand on their own!”

After a few moments of her struggling more, the boot flew off and spilled… nothing.

“Are you kidding me?” the girl hissed.

And the duo watched her struggle begin anew as she tried, and failed, to pull the boot back on. Thrashing and whining like a pup. Fingers unable to properly grip the worn leather with how tightly they’d been bound.

As seemed to be a reoccurring theme, D came to her rescue. Pushing her feet into the troublesome boots before pulling her up with a soft tug on her elbow. “We’ll be leaving soon. I’ll check your hands before we do.”

“You mean you’ll check them before _hand_?”

There was a long silence that stretched between them before the countenanced carbuncled said, “Y’know, it’s not too late to ditch her.”

A smug, cheeky look curled her lips and crinkled her eyes. “Mmm, I’m afraid it is. You’d probably have to kill me to get me to leave at this point.”

Another silence.

“That can be arranged.”

She gasped. “How rude!”

Hand’s next response was muffled by the straps of the saddle as D fastened it down, but she imagined it was just laughter. It could have been something equally ‘rude’ as the last thing. Playfully rude.

“Hey, D?” He inclined his head to show he was listening. “Being so old… if you fall in love, would you technically be a cradle robber?”

Speaking of rude.

And yes, that was most definitely laughter emanating from his hand. But she continued despite the noise and out of character gawking the Hunter was doing. As much as one so stoic _could_ gawk.

“I heard some of the girls in my class calling one of the teachers a cradle robber. I asked Miss Haldwyn what that meant, and she said it was what people were rudely called when they fell in love with someone younger than them. And she believed it to be okay so long as the younger one was an adult.” She eyed D critically at this point before snickering. “I’d imagine the pickings get sparse for your age range once you reach the thousands.”

A pale hand snapped forward and grabbed her ear, tugging the flailing girl toward the horse. Not that he was doing it hard enough to do more than pinch if her delighted giggles were anything to go by. But the moment did give D a bit of information that he somehow overlooked.

“Your ears.”

“Yes! You have my ear!”

They drew short of the steed with another soft tug on said ear, and brushing back her hair, he said, “You have Elfin ears.”

Her face became uncharacteristically blank. Eyes glazed over as she reached up to cup his hands. “I have… effin’ ears?”

“Elfin.”

Another blank stare.

“What’s that mean?”

With a small turn, his fingertip traced the upper point of her ear. It had a delicate curve with a pale blond dusting of hair. Not much larger than the average ear. Adorned with no less than five studs trailing from the lobe to the tip.

He supposed the best way to explain was to show her. And she watched raptly as he pulled back his dark hair to reveal an ear not unlike her own. Missing the curve and peach fuzz, yes. But undeniably Elfin.

“Oh! You have pointy ears too!” she squealed. “That’s so cool! I haven’t met anyone else with them! Is that what Elfin means? Pointy? Is it a genetic mutation?”

And on she continued as she missed the point entirely. Granted, she seemed to understand that she could likely not classify as Human, but he was hoping she would understand that even that small bit of information helped lead them to where she might fit.

Perhaps finding her place might convince her that she wasn’t an affront to nature.


End file.
